


Butterflies & Hurricanes

by Cristinuke



Series: Butterflies & Hurricanes [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Sounding, dom!Natasha, gagging, sub!clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:06:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cristinuke/pseuds/Cristinuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hasn't been the same since New York. In fact, she's never seen him like this, never this low.<br/>Or, the story of how Natasha became the outlet Clint needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undisclosed Desires

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on this account, so excitement for that! Hopefully I won't flake out on this one :) Titles are all from Muse songs. 
> 
> There's a description of non-con at the beginning, but that's not what the story is about.
> 
> Unbeta'd (I'll take any volunteers!) so all mistakes are my own.

He hasn't been the same since New York. In fact, she's never seen him like this, never this low. Sure, there was Bangkok, and Madrid, but that was nothing compared to what she sees now. Clint would always bounce back to his stupid, infectious good humor and bury that guilt, usually within a month. But not this time. New York was three months ago, and if anything, he's gotten worse. Whenever she sees him in the halls of SHIELD, he's quiet, eyes downcast, and moves to the side whenever he passes someone. She sees him trying to melt into the walls and be as unnoticeable as possible. He's lost a lot of weight too; his shirts, where they once fit him snugly, effectively showing off his muscles in his arms, now sit loose and baggy, and he's lost muscle definition everywhere. The shadows under his eyes are darker than she's ever seen them, and his usually bright verdigris eyes are now dull and sad. Her heart aches every time she sees him, aches for the life that held him up, aches for the laughs that would follow him. She knows it's because of the misplaced guilt he has, for killing all those people while he was being mind controlled. 

And she's at a loss as to what to do. She's never had a problem burying guilt. She has room for it and more, but Clint isn't like her. He can't just hide it all away, pretending it never happened. He has to dissect it, every little part, burdening himself with 'what ifs' and 'what should'ves', and eventually come to the conclusion that what happened, happened, and it can't change, no matter how much wishing anybody does. She wishes she could lend him the part of herself that can fix all of this, but she can't.  
She's at a loss of what to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha does what she does best: she spies. She knows she's probably breaking some unspoken rules about "spying on your partners", but she's worried. And it's not her fault that her apartment is just down the street from Clint's (thank you, pitiful SHEILD salary), and that her bedroom window has a clear view of his front door. Maybe the surveillance cameras trained on his apartment is her fault, but she doesn't regret them. Clint has been disappearing for many hours every night, not coming home until early in the morning, and she's even seen him limping once or twice. She's tried to confront him about it when she's over at his house for a beer, but he would just mumble a pitiful excuse and shut down. She doesn't want to push him too hard, but she doesn't want to see him get even more hurt.

It's not until one day that she comes by with a movie and a six-pack with the intention of distracting him, that she sees his face, a purpling bruise starting from his cheek, going all the way up the right side of his face into his scalp. 

"What the fuck happened to you, Clint?" Natasha demanded as soon as she saw him. He tried to close the door, saying "Not today", but she put her foot in the door, stopping him from shutting it, and she maneuvered her way inside.

"S'nothing." Clint mumbled, turning his face around, and starting to walk away.

"Like hell that's nothing. Let me see." Natasha reached her free hand to grip his face and swing it back towards her before he could make one step. He struggled for a moment, but quickly gave up the fight, which made her heart ache even more. She forced his face into the light, and tipped it from side to side to see the whole bruise. It was large and ugly, starting to blacken his eye. He looked up at her with a wary look, and whispered, "Please, Tash. Not today". He looked so broken.

She let go of his face, as if she'd burnt her hand. She tried to speak, to say anything, but nothing was coming up. Clint grabbed the door knob and opened the door again, looking down at the floor. 

"Please." He repeated. 

Natasha didn't know what to do. So she left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha sat in her armchair in her living room. She'd been sitting there, thinking, since her conversation with Clint, and it was well past dark now. So many questions ran through her mind, on a sort of loop: where does he go? Who does this to him? Why does he do this? Can she fix this?

She decided that yes, she can fix this, because the thought of not being able to help wasn't an option. So she got up, stretching her arms out in front of her and feeling her joints pop from inactivity of sitting for so long. She went to her bedroom and glanced out of her window make sure that, yes, Clint was still at home. She figured he'd still go out that night, so she changed her clothes, picking a dark outfit of black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Every now and again she'd look out the window to see his car was still in the driveway. She grabbed her keys, and headed outside to wait in her car. 

She waited for twenty minutes, when a light in her rear-view mirror caught her attention. It was Clint, getting into his car, and starting it up. She waited until he had left his driveway before turning on her car. She followed him, keeping her distance, with her lights off, for fifteen minutes before she saw him turn onto a narrow and unmarked road. It led to a shady looking establishment with cheap neon lights flashing a scantily clad woman with her breasts practically popping out. A sex club, then, she thought. She watched as he got out of his car, locking it behind him. He didn't turn around or even seemed to notice he had been followed. 

She parked her car, got out and headed into the club after he'd been in there for a while. She flashed her most sultry smile to the big man at the entrance of the club. He raised an eyebrow, and she just pouted her lips, pushing her shoulders back so that her breasts were prominent, saying "I'm just looking for a good time" in a low whisper. The man still looked skeptical, but he allowed her in. 

The place was disgusting. The floor was littered with plastic cups and broken glass. There were all sort of liquids pooling in sticky messes all around the floor, and the air was musky, smelling of stale sweat, cheap booze, cigarettes, piss and sex. The lights were turned down low, and Natasha cringed to think how much worse the place would be with the lights turned on. There was a sort of stage in the middle of the room with a girl dancing on a pole, with the skimpiest thong Natasha'd ever seen. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination. A few patrons were sitting in arm chairs, watching the girl slide the pole between her ass cheeks, and beckoning her to them to shove some bills into the pieces of string that was her underwear, and grab at her breasts. Natasha looked the right, and saw a small bar, with a bartender tending to an obese man, whose suit looked like it was two sizes too small for him. On her left, she saw a series of doors, with neon green numbers on top, the ones that were red, Natasha assumed, were occupied. Five out of seven were occupied. She finished her scan, confirming that she didn't see Clint anywhere. She made her way to the bar, and waved her hand, catching the bartender's attention.  
"What'll ya have, sweetheart?" The bartender asked without looking at her face, instead staring unabashed at her breasts. 

"Actually, I’m looking for someone. About this high, "she gestured, her hand going slightly higher than herself, "dirty blonde, green-ish eyes? Ring a bell?"

The bartender finally glanced up at her eyes, and asked gruffly, "Boyfriend? 'Cause you ain't gonna like whatcha find." His eyes moved back down to her breasts. 

Natasha resisted the urge to sigh, and said "I don't care. You seen him?" The bartender nodded, and leaned in close to her, his mouth close to her ear, and whispered, "What'll ya give me in exchange, babycakes?" Natasha tried to gag at the smell of the man, and brought her arm up, twisting it, so that she'd grabbed the bartender's neck and flipped his head down onto the counter.

She leaned to his ears, and said mockingly sweet, "Just your head back, honeyboo." And started slowly choking the man. He started spluttering and gasping and hoarsely gasped out "Okay! Okay! He's….he's in 4!"

Natasha let go of the man, and he backed up, his hand coming up to rub at his neck, gasping. "Thank you!" She said, voice still dripping with honey. As she turned around and headed to the door marked "3", she heard the man mutter, "crazy bitch", and she turned her head and blew him a kiss. The man blanched, and stared as she turned back around and reached the door. She grabbed the handle, and let herself in. Even though, she'd sort of imagined what she'd see in there, she was still taken aback by the scene in front of her.

The three men in the room hadn't noticed her enter, and continued what they were doing. The man in the middle, she recognized immediately as Clint, who was completely naked and had his arms and hands tied tightly behind his back, elbows sticking out at an awkward angle. There was a man with his shirt unbuttoned and his pants down to his ankles behind Clint, shoving his dick into him with a brutal force. His hands were gripping Clint's thighs tightly, and occasionally coming up to slap his ass roughly. The third man was fully dressed with only his cock out, which he was pumping in and out of Clint's mouth at a rapid pace. He was also hitting Clint, on his back, but with a short whip. Every time the whip came down on his back, Clint gave a weak whimper, his eyes squeezed shut. The two men were muttering things, and the sound of Clint's pained gasps mingled with the thumps of flesh slamming into flesh.

Natasha took in the whole scene, and immediately went into action. She ran to the man behind Clint, and grabbed his throat, throwing her momentum and using the man's surprise to lift him off and shove him into the ground and hitting his head with enough force to knock him unconscious. The other man noticed what just happened to his friend, and pulled back, the beginnings of "what the fu-" on his lips before Natasha moved around Clint and shoved her fist into the man's throat, making the man fall to the ground and leaving him desperately gasping for air. 

Natasha turned her attention to Clint, who had fallen to the ground, after the two things keeping him up were otherwise occupied. She knelt down to gently help him up to his knees, his hands still tightly bound. 

"Clint? Clint, can you hear me?" She asked, her hands framing his face, gently smearing off saliva and god-knows-what-else off his face with her thumb. Clint blearily opened his eyes, blinking to get her face into focus. Her face was pinched in a worried expression, and she was moving her lips fast, but he couldn't understand what she was saying. It wasn't until she shook him slightly, that he finally got everything into focus, and heard was she was saying.

"-int, please, say something. Clint? C'mon, look at me." Her voice was rushed, and he finally opened his mouth to answer her, his throat dry and sore, "Tasha…what, what're you…doing here?"

Her shoulders relaxed, and he could feel her sigh of relief on his cheek. He was still confused at her presence, but any thought he tried to form got washed away with his ragged breathing, and aches and pains. His ass was burning raw, and his back felt like it was on fire. He could feel blood dripping down from several places on his body. He was brought back to attention with Natasha saying, "ave got to stop this, Clint. You can't keep doing this to yourself, you're going to get yourself killed." Clint gave weak, mirthless laugh that Natasha didn't like the sound of one bit.

"S'ats kinda the point, Tash, "Clint slurred, and he was too tired to hold his head up, so he let it droop down. His chin had barely touched his chest when he felt her slender hands force his head back up, to that her eyes were staring into his. He didn't like the intensity of her stare, and tried to look away, but she just followed his gaze, and made him look back at her.

"Stop it Clint, " She said forcibly, a command that made Clint give up, and just look at her with dead eyes. "You're going to stop this right now. I know you think you deserve this, but you don't. I don't know how to prove that to you, but I'm sure as hell going to try. You're never coming back here. If you start feeling whatever you're feeling that makes you come here, come to me instead. Do you understand?" She waited for his response, but when none came, she repeated, through gritted teeth, voice pitched low and dangerous, "Do. You. Understand?" Her grip on his face had tightened, her fingers digging into his cheek slightly.

Clint shuddered and nodded, no fight left in his body to resist. He didn't care anymore what happened.

"Use your words, Clint. Do you understand?" Clint's eyes slipped closed as he strained to whisper, "Yes."

He then felt her hand tip his chin up, and suddenly there was a hot mouth on his. Natasha's hot mouth on his. She gave him a light kiss, almost hesitant, and when she pulled back, he instinctively followed. When his mouth failed to find hers, he slowly opened his eyes, searching for her. His eyes finally focused on hers, and then she was kissing him again, this time, confidently, and with authority. She opened her mouth, and her tongue pushed against his lips. He opened his mouth automatically, and felt her tongue explore his mouth. 

She could taste the cock of the other man in Clint's mouth, but she licked it away, until she tasted Clint, just Clint. He was completely pliant under her mouth and hands, and let her do what she wanted. She pulled back, and ran her thumb over his wet lips. His eyes opened again, after they had closed during her kiss, and he seemed worn-out and slightly confused. 

"Good. We're leaving." She got up facing Clint and grabbed him under his armpits, pulling him upwards and keeping him steady as he tried to find his feet under him. His balanced wavered, and he leaned heavily on Natasha, his head resting on her shoulder. She allowed it, as her hands snaked around his body to work at the knots of rope that were binding him. She finally undid the knots, and gently pushed him to stand upright, unwinding the rope from his arms as she did. 

"Stay there a minute." She said, and Clint had no thoughts to do otherwise. He swayed slightly, like a flickering flame, while Natasha gathered his clothes that had been tossed aside. They were soaked with what looked like semen and alcohol, but she ignored it, bringing it back to Clint, and helping him fit his arms into the sleeves. He put both of his hands on her shoulders when she bent to help him put on his jeans. She shimmied the pants up his legs, and fastened the buttons, the belt nowhere in sight. She started to lead him out of the room, when she noticed he was limping badly. She put his right arm around her shoulder and let him put his weight on her, as they walked out of the room, hearing the quiet gasps of the beaten man behind them. 

She made a mental note to call someone to pick up Clint's car while she helped him into the passenger's seat of her car. He gave a pained moan when he sat down, shifting slightly while she put the seat belt on him. She closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. She got in, started the car, and headed back home. The whole ride was silent, save for the labored breaths that Clint tried to keep quiet. He turned his head to the window and stared out, unseeingly. 

She pulled up to her building, and parked in front. She got out, and moved to Clint's side. She opened his door, and helped him climb out, and up the stairs to her apartment, silently grateful that her apartment building was empty because her neighbors were on holiday. She led him through her apartment to her bedroom bathroom, and gently eased him down into the small bathtub she had. Clint remained silent, and avoided her eyes as she stripped him of his shirt and pants. She turned on the faucet, and once it was the temperature she wanted, she plugged the drain and watched as the tub filled with water, slowly turning a muddy pink. She grabbed her loofa, and started to rub off the dirt, semen and blood off of Clint's body. She cleaned every part of him, making sure to take care with his injuries. The water had turned cloudy by that point, so she pulled the stop out, and grabbed the showerhead, switching the water's flow from the drain to the handheld showerhead. She rinsed him off, running it carefully over his hair and face, and cleaned the blood from between his legs. 

Clint just stared at the shampoo bottles on the ledge the whole time. 

When she finished cleaning off her partner, she helped him up and out of the bath. He stood there, shoulders tense and started to shiver. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around him patting him dry, but when the shivering didn't stop, she started to rub his arms, trying to warm him up. She didn't have the air conditioning on, and the bathroom was still very warm from all the steam, but Clint's shivering didn't let up. She pulled him into a hug, hands still rubbing his arms, and moving to his back, mindful of where his whip marks were. He buried his face where her shoulder meets her neck, still shaking, and finally the silent dam broke.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He whispered, letting it become a mantra, over and over again. 

"Shhh, it's okay, Clint. You're going to be okay." She pulled him to her even tighter.

"I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I'm so sorry, I’m sorry," Clint started crying, sobs wracking his body, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry." His words were slurring into each other until he was just mumbling unintelligibly. Natasha placed one hand on his head, smoothing his wet hair back, and rubbing his neck, whispering soothing nothings as her other hand held him tight against her. She thought she might have been hurting him, but he didn't seem to notice. She didn't know how long they stood there, wrapped around each other. Her clothes had long been soaked by then, but she didn't mind. Clint's crying was finally letting up, as exhaustion took over. He was sniffling, still muttering, but was barely making any noise. She told him quietly, "C'mon, let's get you to bed." and he let her lead him into the other room, where she pushed him gently onto her bed. She grabbed the wet towel, and threw it behind her, pulling up the sheets around his naked body. His shaking had gone down, and he kept blinking, trying to keep his eyes open and trained on her, but failing miserably.

"Shhh, it's okay. Shhhh, you're safe. Sleep, Clint. Go to sleep." It seemed like that was what Clint was waiting for, and he finally shut his eyes, and went limp. His breathing evened out with slight hitches every now and then, but he was asleep. Natasha stood by the bedside, arms at her sides, looking down. She'd thought Clint would look more at peace asleep, like he had in the past, when he'd finally managed to grab a nap, but he didn't. He looked like he was in pain, with his eyebrows creased and his hands clenching and unclenching. She reached a hand out to smooth his hair again, but stopped midway. What the hell had she gotten herself into? She was going to fuck this up, she knew it. She shouldn't be the one to do this. But at the same time, she couldn't imagine anyone else doing it. She couldn't imagine anyone else caring enough to patch up a wounded bird. Not whatever was left of his family, not the circus, not SHIELD, and not the messed up team that formed the Avengers. They didn't know Clint like she did. Years and years, working together, mission after mission in every kind of weather, almost dying again and again, yet always bouncing back, ready for more. She knew Clint almost better than she knew herself, and had shared with him her darkest and bloodiest secrets, and he still was there for her. Even after Budapest, he never left her, she never left him. She definitely wasn't going to leave him now. 

Her hand continued its original path, and she found herself running her fingers through his wet hair. Clint turned his head into her hand and sighed quietly, hands unclenching again.

She can do this. She can fix this. She thinks she knows what she needs to do, what she needs to be. She will fix this, because if she doesn't, no one will. 

And she can't bear the thought of losing him.


	2. Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha starts something to try to help Clint.

Natasha woke up early the next morning. She had slept on the couch, and she stretched her arms up, popping her joints again, and moved her neck around to get the cricks out. She got up, and moved silently to her bedroom, where she peeked through to see Clint still sleeping. He'd managed to make a nest out of her sheets, wrapping them around him like a cocoon, and the thought made her lips quirk up. She turned around and head back into the living room, and into the kitchen. She wasn't hungry at all, but she figured Clint might be when he woke up. She wasn't the best cook, (Clint was), but she was adept enough to make breakfast. As she started the coffee maker, she grabbed a few eggs, jam and bread from the refrigerator, and a bowl, fork and knife from the cabinet, and started to make eggs and toast. She was just finishing putting the jam on the toast, when she heard a small shuffling, and looked up to see Clint, sheet wrapped around his whole body, standing awkwardly by the door of the bedroom, not quite inside the living room.

"Good morning." Natasha said, putting the dirty knife in the sink. She grabbed a coffee mug, and walked over to where Clint was, who mumbled a "Mornin'" and looked down, a slightly pink blush forming on his cheeks. Natasha walked right up to him, ignoring his embarrassment, and handed him the mug. He took it, gingerly holding on to it with both hands while still keeping the sheet covering himself.

"I made breakfast." Natasha stated, gesturing behind her. "Are you hungry?" Clint shook his head, but Natasha got the faint impression that he just didn't want to show another weakness.

As Clint took a sip of his coffee, Natasha went back to the kitchen to pick up a small bottle of something. She gestured for Clint to come to the edge of her sofa.

"I meant to apply this last night, but I didn't get the chance." Clint gave her a wary look, and she continued, "It's an ointment. To help your injuries heal faster. Come over here." She waited until Clint finally moved and was right in front of her. "Drop the sheet, turn around and bend over the arm of the sofa. You can use those pillows to help balance." Clint hesitated for a moment, but then the towel dropped, revealing his naked form. He had dark purple bruises forming on his hips and as he turned around and bent over the arm, she could see the clear angry red lines from the whip crisscrossing all over his back. He laid his head on his arms on top of a pillow and stilled, tension running throughout his body. Natasha froze with a start when she realized that he was expecting her to hit him. She placed her hand at the small of his back and he flinched hard, but otherwise stayed where he was. She rubbed small circles in the skin not marked, and she said softly, "I won't hurt you."

Clint didn't move or acknowledged what she said, but she wasn't really expecting a response. She uncapped the bottle and squeezed out some of the ointment; it had the consistency of lotion and it spread easily. She gently applied it to the whipped lines of his back, and he inhaled sharply every time she touched a particularly red one. His shoulders and back tensed and relaxed as she worked: relaxing when she was smoothing out one area, and tensing when she got to a new part. She covered his whole back with the stuff, making it smell like peppermint. She applied some to the ugly bruises on his hips, and over his ass. She then realized, that he had probably torn last night, and so she slowly spread his ass cheeks apart. She felt him tense under her, but made no move to stop her. She applied a glob of the ointment on his hole, and she rubbed it around gently. He gasped when she slowly pushed her finger in. She pulled it out to coat her finger with more ointment, and pushed it back in. He was very hot inside, and she wondered if that was how he normally was, or if it was because of the injuries inside. She moved her finger around, trying to get as much ointment coated on his inner muscles, when Clint relaxed and gave a soft moan. She craned her neck to look at his face, and saw that his eyes were closed, and his breathing had sped up a little. She pulled out her finger, and Clint gave a small whine.

 _Interesting_ , she thought. She filed that for later.

She capped the bottle, and set it on the table in front of the sofa while wiping her hands with a spare napkin. When she looked back at Clint, she saw that his eyes were open again, and he was watching her, still in his bent position. She took a step towards him, and put her hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back upright, until he was standing in front of her again. He was looking at her with mild curiosity, and Natasha decided to play her hunch.

"Kneel." Her voice was quiet and low, but commanded authority. She watched the minute emotions flicker across Clint's face: surprise, confusion, pleading, rebellion, contentment, guilt, and finally acceptance. He sank to his knees, eyes still locked on hers, and an odd expression crossed his features. It took Natasha a moment to realize that the expression was that of peace. A huge weight seemed to have been lifted off of Clint's shoulders and placed on Natasha's.

She could do this. She _would_ do this.

"Good boy." She said softly. Clint's eyes closed, and a faint shudder ran throughout his body at her words. Natasha felt a rush of power, suddenly, and held her breath for a moment. When Clint opened his eyes and looked back at her, she let out her breath slowly.

"Clint, I won't hurt you." Natasha repeated. Pain is what they had at SHIELD. Pain was their jobs. Pain was their past. They didn't have any more room for pain, and she knew that pain wasn't what he needed, even if that's what he thought he did. Looking at his body and face, Natasha knew that Clint needed an outlet for all the emotions he carried with him, and she could be that outlet.

She brought her hand to cup the side of his face, and he flinched away slightly. She continued until her hand was laying along his cheek, and then he was pressing back, as if to tell her that he was sorry for moving away. She crouched down in front of him, her hand still on his face and she rubbed her thumb back and forth.

"Clint, I can help you. I _want_ to help you. But you have to let me. Will you let me help you, Clint?" Her hand stilled its movements as she waited for his response. Clint's expression was slowly being replaced with one of desperation, and his breath was starting come out faster. His eyes were darting from her to around the room, and coming back, quietly pleading with her, as his body filled with tension again and his hands began to shake, fingers twitching.

"Please, Tasha," His voice was scratchy, and she could see he was on the verge of hyperventilating. She knew what he meant, though, and she knew what she needed to do. When his gaze flickered back towards the room, she said sharply, "Clint, look at me."

His eyes immediately focused on hers, and he held his breath. She brought her other hand to the other side of his face, and said "Breathe." He let out a shuddering breath, and he gasped in air. They stayed like that for a few moments, until his breathing was normal again, but his eyes never lost the desperate look.

"I have an idea, Clint, and I need you to be good for me, okay?' Natasha said clearly. Clint let out a hushed "yes", and Natasha gave him a peck on the lips before she stood up. She walked behind Clint back into the kitchen, and grabbed two clean mugs and filled them with water. She returned to where Clint was still kneeling, and stood in front of him.

"I want you to spread your legs a little more, but still kneel." She told him as he looked up at her. She watched as Clint shifted to accommodate the new position. "A little bit more, Clint." Again, he shifted his knees to spread them further apart. His thighs started to slightly tremble with the strain of holding the position, but he looked steady. Natasha knew that Clint couldn't be pushed too hard physically today, but he needed to be distracted, both physically and mentally, if this was going to work.

"Good boy." She praised him when he was in the position she wanted. Clint breathed in sharply at the words, and Natasha could tell that this was what he needed to hear. "Hold out your arms on your sides, perpendicular to the floor." Clint raised both his arms and held them at shoulder level. She then place one mug in his left hand, and the other in his right hand. His hands dropped slightly with the weight, but he brought them back up immediately to their original position.

"You're to hold that position for as long as I tell you to hold it, Clint." As Natasha spoke, she moved around him and walked back into the kitchen, this time picking up the plate of toast and jam that had gone cold and soggy by now. "If you can hold it, you'll get a reward. Don't drop your arms, Clint." Her voice took an interesting edge at the end. She walked back to the sofa with the plate in hand. She sat down on the side furthest from Clint, leaning back against the arm of the couch, and propping her legs along the length of the cushions. In the position, she could see all of Clint, naked, spread out and vulnerable. Clint's expression had changed slightly into one of determination, like he needed to prove that he could do what Natasha asked of him.

Natasha simply watched him.

She slowly ate the soggy toast, and kept her eyes trained on Clint. He was fascinating to watch; after a few minutes, he stopped looking at Natasha, so that he could concentrate on his task. His eyebrows furrowed, and his forehead started to have a faint sheen of sweat. By the time Natasha had finished her toast, Clint was breathing heavier, and his thighs were shaking more. His arms had started to droop but he corrected himself every time, this little detail making the corners of Natasha's mouth twitch up.

After almost twenty minutes, Natasha spoke softly, "You've been so good for me." Clint's focus snapped back at her. "You're reward is to take a small drink from each mug. But keep the other elevated while you drink. I don't want to see those arms down. Do you understand me?" Clint started to nod at her, but she quickly added, "I want words, Clint. I said, 'do you understand'?"

Clint opened his mouth, starting to say something, but stopped to clear his throat. "Yes."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "'Yes', what?"

Clint cleared his voice again, "Yes, I understand." His body seemed to relax as he spoke, even though all his muscles were still straining in their hold.

"Good. Now drink."

Clint moved his left arm first, keeping it perpendicular to the floor, and raised the mug to his lips. He took a drag of the water, and then extended his arm back out. He did the same with the other mug, and then looked at Natasha.

She could see that now his arms were slightly higher than they were before; the lack of some water meant lack of weight holding his arms down. But he held them steady, and that was what mattered.

She gave him a smile, grabbed the empty plate from the coffee table and walked back into the kitchen. She put the plate in the sink, and then grabbed the full plate of cold eggs, covered it and put it in the refrigerator. As she started to walk back, she stopped suddenly. She could see Clint's back, the whole expanse of it, and she studied it. His lines of red were not as bright as earlier, she was happy to note. And the bruises were looking better. But past the lines and bruises, she was fascinated by the bundle of muscles that ran throughout his back. His shoulders were tense and she could see the muscles contracting underneath. His lower back was strong, despite the visible tremble that was constantly there.

As she studied every plane of his body's back, she noticed that his arms were drooping dangerously low, and his correction's weren't as accurate as before. She stalked up to him, sank a hand into his hair, and pulled his head back so that she could see his long neck exposed. Clint gasped, his throat working hard as he tried to swallow and accommodate the new angle.

Natasha lowered her head until her lips were brushing against his right ear, and she spoke, voice low, "I told you not to drop your arms, didn't I?" Clint was blinking fast, and his mouth was opening and closing, trying to find words to say. Eventually he found, "I’m sorry, I didn't mean to, please, let me try again, I'll do better, I'll be better, please." He ran out of breath, raggedly breathing in and was about to start speaking again when Natasha shushed him gently, and released her grip on his hair, instead smoothing back the stray strands. His words broke her heart.

"Shhhh, baby. Just bring your arms up again." His arms rose up quickly, back to shoulder level. Satisfied, she kissed him on his cheek. She moved around Clint and took up her spot on the couch again. She resumed her activity of watching Clint.

Another half hour passed, and Clint was breathing hard with exertion. Sweat was running down his face, and his whole body was covered with the sheen of sweat. His knees kept slipping outwards, which caused him to put more effort into keeping his position. His arms would waver, but he would always bring them back to their spot.

Natasha spoke up again, "You're such a good boy for me, Clint. Take another drink." Clint hesitated before bring the first mug to his mouth. He gulped down more than he probably should have, in Natasha's opinion, but she allowed it. She knew he was getting very near to his limits for today, and wouldn't be able to last for very much longer. As he finished drinking from the second mug, and extended his arm again, she got up and walked over to him. She crouched down and brought a hand up to wipe some of the sweat away from his face. He turned into her hand which prompted Natasha to bring his face towards her and kiss his lips softly.

"You're being so good today. I know you can go a little longer for me. Can you do that for me?" She said as soon as she pulled back, leaving Clint leaning towards her. She lightly pushed him back. Clint started to nod his head in answer to her but stopped and said instead, "Yes, Natasha."

"Excellent."

She sat down on the sofa again, and watched.

Barely ten minutes had passed, and Clint was shaking hard. If the mugs had been filled to the top, they would have been spilling over. Spasms were running up and down his thighs, and he was panting heavily. His eyes were squeezed tight with concentration and his hair was damp with sweat. He was going to drop his arms and the mugs any second now, so, Natasha got back up and slowly pried the mugs from his hands, saying, "You did good, Clint. Perfect. It's okay, it's over."

 Clint didn't open his eyes, but his whole body slumped down and forward onto Natasha as she set the mugs down on the table behind her. She ran her hands along his arms, rubbing at his biceps and forearms, trying to chase away the tremors that were still there. She held him like that, at an awkward position with him half on her, until his breathing and shaking evened out. She grabbed one of the mugs, and  moved him until he was more or less upright, and offered him the drink. He chugged it down quickly, and she replace the mug with the other one, which he drank all of its contents as well.

Natasha helped maneuver him onto the sofa. He tried to lie down, but Natasha said, "Not yet, sweetie. Just wait." So instead, he leaned back on the couch, his head hanging over the edge, and put his hands gingerly in his lap. Natasha grabbed a mug from the coffee table and walked back to the kitchen. She refilled the mug with more water and took the plate of eggs from the refrigerator. She grabbed a fork and walked back to the sofa where she saw that Clint hadn't moved at all. She sat down next to him, and said, "C'mere. You need to eat this, and then you can lie down." She helped him sit in a better position, and handed him the fork. Very shakily, he began to eat the eggs offered. She smiled as he swallowed, and offered the mug. Soon, the eggs and water were gone and Natasha set the plate and mug down. She then moved around and helped Clint lie down so that his head was in her lap. She lazily ran her hand through his hair, and they remained like that for a while.

"Want to watch a movie?" Natasha offered. Clint blinked up at her, and she could have sworn she saw a ghost of a smile on his face for a second. It was gone, though, as quickly as it had appeared.

"Sure." Clint replied quietly. Natasha grabbed the remote, and turned on the T.V., and flicked through the settings until she found Netflix. She found a movie that was action-filled, (like the ones Clint likes) and played it, setting the volume softly. Clint shifted in her lap until he was facing the movie, and they watched the titles start. It wasn't the best movie ever, but it served as a nice distraction.

When the credits rolled. Natasha asked, "Do you want to watch another one?"

"Okay." Clint watched Natasha started to scroll through the list of movies as she looked for one that appealed to her. She was about to select a movie when Clint asked, "Why are you doing this?"

Natasha paused for a moment, and looked down at Clint. He was still facing away from her, but she could feel he was completely focused on her.

Natasha  tried to think of ways to explain to Clint how she felt. How she felt when she watched him deteriorating in front of her. How she felt when she saw him cutting himself down. How she felt when she realized he didn't care about himself anymore. How she felt when she saw how he would do what she told him to do.

Eventually she settled for, "Because I can't lose you, Clint. You're all I have."

Clint remained quiet at that, and after a while, Natasha figured he wasn’t going to say anything else, so she pressed play for the movie.

As the beginning credits started, she heard Clint say softly, "You're all I have too."

They watched the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently I decided to start this fic when I have the least access to my laptop/wifi.....lol But worry not, I have my outline and this fic will definitely be written. Just bear with me for the summer...:)


	3. Citizen Erased

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha begins to realize what works for Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the BAMF, Tori. :D

**__ **

They watched four more movies before they realized it was night time and decided to get up and stretch; Clint groaned as he got up and moved his limbs around. He grabbed the plate and mug that had been left on the table, and took them to the kitchen. Natasha walked in the opposite direction however, going into her bedroom. She opened a drawer, and took out  a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that were both too big on her. She returned to the living room, and offered the clothes to Clint, who took them silently and began to dress.

"I don't know where your shoes are." Natasha said slightly sheepishly when Clint was dressed. Clint looked down at his bare feet poking out from beneath the sweatpants.

"S'at's okay. Thanks." They stood there, sort of awkwardly, looking at each other.

"I should probably go home." Clint broke the silence. "I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

Natasha nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, I"ll see you later, then." Clint nodded too, still standing there. He suddenly turned around and walked towards the front door. Natasha followed him and caught the door behind Clint as he opened, and went through it. He turned before he reached the stairs and opened his mouth to say something, though he hesitated, seemed to change his mind about what to say, and closed his mouth again.

"'Bye, Tash." Was all he said before he turned and walked down the stairs, leaning on the banister as he went.

"Goodbye, Clint." Natasha called after him, when he was out of sight.

She stood in the threshold as she listened to Clint walk down the stairs, and out the building. She then closed the door and walked straight to her bedroom, where she looked out of the window to follow Clint walking down the street towards his apartment, his bare feet visible in the dim light of the street lamps. She watched him as he disappeared through his building door, and continued until she saw his apartment light turn on. It turned off moments later, and Natasha suddenly felt like a silly teenage girl at the window.

 

She stepped away and turned off her light before slipping under her covers. She laid  there for a few minutes before her stomach reminded her that the only food she had eaten that day had been toast, earlier that morning. She grudgingly got back up and shuffled to heat up some leftover takeout she had from the previous night. As she ate in the darkness, she contemplated what was in store for her and Clint, and how she would deal with it.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~

Monday morning meant work. She got up at 6:30am and was out the door in fifteen minutes. She arrived at SHIELD earlier than usual, but that didn't bother her. She walked through the corridors and only saw a few agents scattered here and there. She took the stairs down to the gym and started a new routine with the punching bags. The repetition of her fists slamming against the bag drove all thoughts from her head, and she savored the way her muscles contracted and ached from the rigorous exercise. By the time she decided she'd had enough, it was nearly lunch time. Some agents had been watching her with looks of amazement on their face, but she paid them no heed. She took her towel and water bottle and disappeared into the showers.

Hair wet, she began to trudge up the stairs to grab something to eat in the cafeteria. She was thinking about the paperwork she'd decided to catch up on after lunch, when she rounded a corner and almost ran into Clint. He backed up instantly and was in the middle of mumbling an apology when he looked up and realized who he'd run into. His eyes widened and for a moment, Natasha thought he was about to bolt. She put on a smile and said cheerily, "Good morning, Clint."

Clint seemed to relax at her expression, and returned the greeting, though less enthusiastic.

"Are you going to lunch?" Natasha asked. Maybe they could sit next to each other.

Before, Clint had generally been surrounded by rookies who looked up at Clint and enjoyed the entertainment he provided,  by cracking jokes and making bad impressions. Now, Clint hardly went into the cafeteria, and when he did, nobody would go near him. A few would occasionally trip him and send his food clattering to the ground. It was all very elementary, and Natasha hated it.  


Clint looked surprised at her question, and then a flash of guilt spread across his face. "No, I just finished."

Natasha tried not to let her disappointment show and instead said, "Okay. Next time, then." She smiled again as Clint just stood there, looking miserable. Natasha wanted to wrap him in her arms, but instead, she forced herself to move around Clint, adding  "see you later, then," before she walked into the cafeteria.  


Grabbing a salad bowl and a drink she decided she wanted to work while she ate, so she  took her lunch and walked to her office. It was a small quaint room with a plain desk and a single cabinet, but it was her place. She grabbed a stack of papers and began to sort them out. It wasn't until ten minutes had passed that she realized she hadn't sorted them out correctly and that she hadn't touched her food . She couldn't get Clint's broken expression out of her head, and the way he instantly relaxed under her touch kept other thoughts away.

 

She spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about Clint, and all the ways she could try to fix him. She didn’t know where this sudden and intense need to fix things came from but she tried not to dwell too much on that. It was getting late by the time she decided that she wasn't doing anything productive. All the late paperwork wasn't going to be done tonight, so she packed up her things and went home.

Her apartment was dark and quiet when she got home. She ordered in some Chinese food, and went about doing her laundry. It wasn't until a few hours later that she was sitting on her couch, reading a book, when she heard a faint knock on her door. Her head snapped up at the quiet sound, and for a moment she thought she'd imagined it. But instinct told her otherwise, so she got up and walked over to the door. She turn the knob, and on the other side, she saw Clint, who was half turned away as if he'd suddenly changed his mind and was about to leave.

"Clint?" He froze, and slowly turned around, eyes not quite meeting hers.

"I, umm, I was just, uh thinking. Er, what I mean is," Natasha had never seen Clint fumble for words so badly in her life and she quickly spared him.

"Come in,."

Clint looked grateful at not having to spell it out, and walked quietly past Natasha into the apartment. She closed the door behind her, and followed Clint who had stopped when he reached the sofa. His hand was stretched out as if to touch the pillow there, but instead his hand just hovered over it.

He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with old dark jeans, and she could see tension running through his body. He was alert and looking around for an escape route, even as he stood there. Natasha moved behind him, not bothering to be silent, and gently put her hand on his shoulder. Clint flinched but didn't move, and an instant later his body relaxed into her touch.

"I was, umm, feeling….and you said, er, well, if I felt…I can go if you want." Clint was still looking away from her, and she knew he was giving her an out; but she also heard his desperation and longing, and there was no way she was letting him out of her sight.

She squeezed her hand tightly, and then she let go, stepping back.

"Strip."

Clint let out a breath, and his hands moved to his belt. He undid the buckle, and stepped out of his jeans as he toed off his shoes. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Natasha could see the lines on his back starting to scab over, and she was pleased that they were healing well.

He stood there, still facing away from her, in just his boxers. She walked around Clint and the sofa so that she was facing him. "I said, 'strip'. That means everything.” Clint finally raised his eyes to hers, mild surprise on his face, but he didn't hesitate. He grabbed his boxers and pulled them off. He stood up again, and stared at Natasha, his cheeks blushing pink slightly.

Natasha scanned his body, taking her time to drink in the sight. Clint's body really was beautiful, and she appreciated what he had to offer. By the time she reached his face, the pink blush had intensified.

"Good boy." She said with a small smile. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

She motioned for him to come to where she was, and he shuffled over. She pushed the table towards the television set, so that there was enough space in front of the couch.

"Have you ever done yoga?" Natasha asked him. She swore that she saw a ghost of a smirk on his face right before he shook his head.

"Well, I've always found it to be a good way to relax. C'mere." She motioned for Clint to stand in the middle of the open space and he stood still as she moved him around. By the time she was done, Clint was facing the couch, a few feet away.

"I'm going to tell you what to do, and you're going to do it." Natasha commanded lowly. Clint nodded his head quickly, and they began.

She started him in the Downward Dog position. She walked around his figure, taking in how his shoulders, back, thighs and calves strained in the upside-down V position. Occasionally she'd touch him here and there to alter and fix limbs or positions and he would immediately correct himself. She brought him down to Plank, all the while talking soothingly to him. His biceps strained in the push-up position, and she could see he was beginning to relax, letting her take control of what he was going to do.

They went on like that, Natasha bringing him into position after position, making sure to use every muscle. Clint's breathing was starting to get heavier as she made him do harder poses. She was fascinated by his straining muscles, and would touch her fingertips to the quivering skin. He really was quite beautiful. He was breathing hard by the time she let him get into Child's Pose for a rest. Sweat was actively dripping down his body, and his eyes were closed. He was starting to lose some of the tension that he had held within himself, and Natasha wanted to push him.

After another minute, she brought him back up and continued to maneuver him into difficult positions. They were starting to take a toll on Clint, who still wasn't as fit as usual, and he was starting to pant. She continued to push him; moving his hands, arms, head, feet and legs into each new arrangement,  before making sure he held it.

In one particularly challenging position, a groan escaped from Clint's throat, and Natasha froze for a moment. A quick once-over told her he hadn't gotten into a weird position, and she told him to hold the pose. A thrill was running through her at the sight of Clint forcing himself to hold such a tiring and hard position, just because she told him to. His muscles were straining, and his face was pinched in concentration. She watched him silently as the seconds ticked by and she noticed that Clint's limbs were threatening to betray him. She suddenly wanted to find out when he would break.

He started shaking, and whining quietly when he heard silence from Natasha, but she just remained passive. His breathing was getting ragged and he kept shifting, trying to hold the pose for her. A few more minutes passed with Clint getting more and more desperate to hold still, when suddenly, he gave a soft whimper and collapsed on himself. Natasha immediately knelt down by his side and began to gently untangle his limbs from each other. She murmured what a good boy he was, how proud she was of him and how beautiful he looked while she worked. She caressed his face and realized that he had been crying, tears running down his cheeks that she brushed away with her thumb.

"Shhhh, baby. You're okay. It's over, you did good." She kept up the litany of reassurances as Clint moved his hands to clutch at her shirt and pants, hiccups escaping him as he tried to breathe normally again. His grip on her wasn't very strong, and his fingers kept slipping; every time his hands dropped, she reached for his hand, and replaced it where it was before.

When he'd finally calmed down again, she slowly helped him up and led him past her room and into her bathroom. She turned on the shower and ushered him inside. She took the showerhead and soap and quickly and efficiently cleaned him up. When she was done, she pulled him out, and grabbed a towel wrapping it around him. He closed his eyes as she dried him off, and she was happy to note that he looked relaxed. When done, she led him back to the bed, and had him lie down on his stomach.

"Wait a minute." She told him when he opened his eyes to stare at her. She walked out of the bedroom to the living room where she picked up the bottle of ointment from where she had left it the previous night. She returned to the bedroom, and got on the other side of the bed, sitting next to Clint. He turned his head to face her as she clicked open the bottle and began to squeeze out the cream. She started to rub it into the injuries on his back, and noticed that Clint wasn't as bothered by it this time. That was a good sign.

Clint closed his eyes again as Natasha administered the ointment, and his hand closest to Natasha moved so that he was holding on to her ankle in a loose grip. She finished tending his back, and she closed the bottle, putting it on the bedside table. She stroked the back of his hand that was holding onto her ankle. She then gripped it lightly, exchanging her ankles for her fingers and moved down so that she was lying down next to Clint. When she looked at his face again, she saw that his eyes were open and looking at her. The other hand not holding on to his, reached up to smooth his hair off of his face. He hadn't cut his hair since before New York, and it was getting really long. He was going to have to cut it again soon if he was going to go back to shooting. Hair in the face makes for bad visibility. 

He turned into her touch and blinked, a sigh escaping his chest.

"Thank you." He whispered. Natasha smiled and leaned in to press her lips lightly against his.

"Sleep." She told him. Clint closed his eyes and within seconds, was fast asleep. With her hand still entwined with his, she closed her eyes, and she let sleep drag her under.

When she awoke the next morning, Clint was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, so much traveling and no access to my laptop. But thank you to all who's reading! You're awesome!


	4. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha finds something out about Clint, (and uses it to her advantage).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the uh-mazing Tori!

They fell into a routine of sorts that week; Natasha would wake up then go to work, use the gym, eat a quick lunch and then get paperwork done. Occasionally she'd see Clint wandering around SHIELD; she always felt a pang of sadness whenever she saw him, because he was still on suspended active duty until he passed his psych evaluations. She wasn't one hundred percent sure of what he did when he was at work but she knew he hadn't touched his bow since New York. If she saw him around, she'd give him a small smile and say hello. His face started to change; he no longer bore the look of the walking dead. He still wasn't alive, but it was a good start in the right direction.

When she got home, she'd go about doing her mundane chores, eat dinner and settle herself down on the sofa with a book. She never got far in her chapters, because soon enough, a knock would be heard at her door. She'd get up, and let Clint in. Once he was in her space, he immediately began to relax, knowing that his life was being handled. And Natasha would handle him. She'd start him off with easy taks, and build him up to the difficult aspects. They were always duties that kept his mind too busy for any thoughts that to flit through. By the end of the night, he'd be a hot, sweating mess, breathing like a racehorse after a competition… And Natasha loved it.

She loved the power she had over him -  that he would do everything she asked of him - and that she could manipulate his body however she wished. It was different than work; out in the field, the men she'd seduce were meat to her. She could do whatever she wanted to them and not care of the aftermath. With Clint, she cared, and she took such careful precautions to make sure that what she did to him would be beneficial, not damaging to him. She'd bring him down with soft words and gentle strokes. Clint practically purred like a cat whenever she played with his hair.

By the end of the week, she'd managed to get him to loosen up and the ghosts of smiles were beginning to appear. He was trying so hard to get back to normal, and Natasha admired his strength. The first time he cracked a joke it took Natasha by surprise, both because she wasn't expecting it and because it was a really terrible joke. But, she smiled all the same and pulled Clint in for a sweet kiss. Clint never stayed all night; he was always gone by the time Natasha woke up.

It was exactly a week after their initial session when Natasha heard the familiar knock on her door. She padded over to it and opened it quietly. Clint stood there with a six-pack of beer in the crook of one arm, and a small, barely-there smile on his face.

"Wanna hang out?" Clint asked. A small flash of fear flickered across his face, as if Natasha might tell him no, that this wasn't allowed within the parameters of their relationship, but Natasha simply broke out into a wide grin and said,

"Sure. I'll make some popcorn."

They went inside the apartment and headed to the kitchen, where Natasha started riffling through the cabinets to look for the popcorn she knew was hidden somewhere in the back. Clint took two beers out of the pack and put the rest in the refrigerator. He opened the drawer where the bottle openers were and began to pop them open as Natasha put the popcorn bags into the microwave. For a moment, Natasha was struck with a memory of before New York, when they used to do this all the time. They'd hang out, go to each other's apartments, drink and watch bad movies. Natasha missed those nights, and silently she hoped that they would get there again.

Clint handed her a bottle as the popcorn started popping. She took a swig of it and then noticed that Clint was absently scratching his back. When he didn't stop, Natasha realized that the scabs that had formed would now be at the very-itchy-phase.

"Stop that. You'll pull them off before their time." Natasha admonished him with a grin. Clint immediately paused and brought his hand down. He took a sip of his beer, and they stood there in comfortable silence as the popping grew louder. When it was ready, Natasha took it out of the microwave and opened the bag, flinching when the steam burned her because she was too impatient to wait for it to cool off. She poured the contents into a bowl and she walked into the living room with Clint just behind her.

"Anything in particular you want to watch tonight?" Natasha asked him as she placed the bowl down on the coffee table. Clint sat down on one end of the sofa, placed his beer on the table and began to unbutton the sleeves of his white button up shirt.

"Um, whatever's good." Natasha turned on the television, and began to browse through her collection of DVD's. She decided to pop in one of the Bourne movies, because they were Clint's favorites, and sat down on the other side of him.

They began to watch the film; eatting  popcorn and occasionally taking sips of their beer. After the opening credits, Natasha caught movement from the corner of her eye, and saw that Clint was scratching his back again. She playfully pushed him with her foot and said, "Stop scratching. It's only going to make it worse."

Clint looked sheepishly at her and mumbled a "Sorry" and continued to watch the movie. After about ten minutes though, he was shifting in his seat,  rubbing his back against the sofa, trying to find some relief. Natasha pushed him again with her foot, this time a little harder.

"Stop it, Clint." He stilled and continued watching the movie. But again, within minutes, he was trying to scratch his back again, fidgeting to get the right spot. Natasha moved closer so that she sat next to him, before grabbing his hands and setting them on his lap. She laced her fingers through his, and leaned on him, returning her attention to the movie. He was able to sit still for a few minutes, but then he started to squirm minutely, and then more and more.

Natasha spoke up, "Clint, if you don't stop scratching, I will tie you up." She had meant it as a joke, but she felt Clint go eerily still, and she didn't hear him breathe. She looked up, confused, and met Clint's eyes for a moment before he looked away from her. Natasha was dumbstruck for a moment. Clint's eyes had dilated and a blush was beginning to appear across his cheeks. He still hadn't let go of his breath. 

"Clint?" He let out a shaky breath, but still refused to meet her gaze.

_Oh._

Natasha was suddenly inspired.

"Is that what you want, Clint? For me to tie you up?" Clint's eyes snapped back to her and then away just as fast. His chest was rising and falling quickly.

Natasha untangled herself from his side and sat up. She grabbed the remote and turned off the TV and the turned her complete attention on Clint.

"Kneel." She pitched her voice low, and the command sounded terrifying. Clint let out a small moan and complied, slipping from the couch to kneel in front of her. Natasha spread her legs and he shuffled forwards in between them.

"That's what you need." Natasha began to unbutton his shirt. She saw him swallow and watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"You need to be reigned in." Clint's eyes were battling between squeezing shut and wanting to look at Natasha but he averted his gaze.

"You need to be tied up and restrained." Clint gave a full body shudder at her words. Natasha continued to unbutton his shirt until only the last three were still buttoned. She ignored those and began to pull the shirt off.

"You can't control yourself, so I have to do it for you, don't I?" Clint was breathing heavily, little moans falling from his mouth. She pulled the shirt down and leaned towards him, bringing his arms behind his back. She grabbed his wrists and tugged on the sleeves a bit so that she had cloth in her hands. She pulled his arms tight, and began to tie the sleeves together, twisting the top of the shirt so that it became part of the restraint.

"You can't follow a simple command, so I have to make sure you follow it." She finished securing the shirt together and leaned back. Clint was a sight. His arms were pulled back tightly but not enough to cause any problems with his circulation or cause any pain. His chest was bare with the shirt pulling tight around his belly and biceps. He was staring up at Natasha with eyes blown wide and his mouth hanging slightly open, little breaths coming in and out. He struggled for a moment, trying to get his arms out, but either Natasha's knots were too good, or Clint really didn't want to get out of his position. His shoulders dropped in acceptance. 

"There you go. All tied up like a present, just for me." Clint tried to stifle a low groan and the muffled sound just spurred Natasha on. She began to touch Clint, running her fingers across his chest and down his stomach. One hand rubbed lightly over a nipple and Clint whined softly, leaning into the touch. Without warning, Natasha's other hand shot out and cupped his groin. She squeezed his hard length lightly, and Clint doubled over with a loud moan.

She knew she had just crossed a line in their relationship… But damn, it felt good.

She began to stroke him through his jeans and Natasha realized that she could quite easily become addicted to the lovely sounds that Clint was making. She brought her other hand downwards and began to unbuckle his belt and jeans. She pulled them down so that they rested on his thighs and his cock sprang free. He really was beautiful. Natasha had seen him naked several times, but seeing him hard - hard because she _made_ him hard - well, that was definitely turning her on. She placed her hand on his cock and began to pump him slowly. Clint jumped as if he had been hit by electricity but his moans were only getting louder and louder. Natasha noticed that he was possibly the most receptive man she'd ever seen, and she loved it.

"Is this what you wanted, Clint? Is this what you thought would happen?" Natasha's questions were answered with a sharp intake of air and an aborted shake of the head. She ran her thumb over the head of his cock and Clint practically keened at the touch. She sped up her hand, took his balls in her other hand. She squeezed gently, massaging and fondling them and Clint let out a whimper. She slowed her hand again and Clint's whole body jerked.

"Oh baby, do you want to come? Is that it?" Natasha didn't mean to be cruel but she was enjoying the sight of Clint writhing beneath her hand. He let out a loud whine and nodded quickly.

"What have I said about using your words, Clint?"

"Yes, yes. Pl-please, Natasha, please, let me…." He was cut off when she sped up her hand again. His head dropped down so that it was resting on her thigh, and he was thrusting his hips in time with her hand. She abruptly stopped her stroking, just held him in a light grip, and he began to buck up wildly.

"Pl-please! Don't….please, Tasha…" He lifted his head to look at Natasha with desperate eyes, and she just watched him, a smile on her face.

"You really do want to come, don't you, baby?" He dropped his head down again and pushed against her thigh, whispering "please" over and over like a personal prayer. He had started to shake again.

She began to move her hand again, very slowly. She stroked up the length and on the down stroke she rubbed her thumb across the glands. Clint was continuously moaning now, and Natasha began to move her hand faster while her other hand continued to caress his balls. Clint was breathing raggedly now and he had his eyes squeezed shut. Natasha pumped his cock steadily, and smeared the precome across his head. He was getting really close, and she knew he'd tip over the edge any moment.

"Come for me, Clint." Natasha commanded. Clint was nothing but obedient, and within the next two strokes he was coming with a wordless shout. She continued to stroke him through his orgasm, ignoring the semen that covered her hand now. She didn't stop until Clint flinched away, his cock over-sensitized; she let him go and wiped her hands on her pants. Clint was now draped half over her legs and half on the couch, completely boneless, breathing loudly.

Natasha began to run her fingers through his hair and massage his neck.

"Such a good boy, Clint. You did so well for me." She praised him, and Clint let out another moan.

She continued to pet and stroke his head and shoulders while he calmed down. Millions of thoughts were running through her mind, but she tempered them down, and focused on Clint. Eventually, he began to stir and she let him up. When he met her gaze, his face broke into a lazy smile, unguarded and genuine. It filled her heart to see such a beautiful sight, and she returned the smile and brought her hand up to his cheek.

"Wanna wash up?" She asked him. Clint nodded, still grinning, and began to stand up. He was really shaky though, and his arms were still tied, so Natasha had to help him up. When he managed to stay standing without toppling over, he stepped out of his jeans and underwear and she walked him through her bedroom and into the bathroom, like she'd been doing every night the past week. She had him turn around, and began to untie the shirt, unwrapping the material from his limbs, and massaging out the creases in his skin. She dropped the shirt on the ground, she turned on the water before guiding him inside.

As he began to wash himself, Natasha looked down at herself and realized she was pretty dirty too; both her pants and hands were covered in semen. So, she stripped off her clothes and joined Clint in the shower. They got cleaned up quickly, and soon enough Natasha stepped out to grab a few towels, before giving one to Clint. They dried themselves off and Natasha strode off into the bedroom, naked, where she got under the cover on the bed. She turned her head to the bathroom where she saw Clint leaning against the doorframe, his towel held loosely around his hips.  

"Coming?" She asked, and then smirked at the unintentional pun. Clint caught it too and the corners of his mouth quirked up. He let the towel drop and he walked over to the bed, lifting the covers and lying down next to her. He turned onto his side so that he was facing her.

"That was amazing." Clint mumbled, slurring the last word. His eyes were half-closed and a light blush appeared on his cheeks. Natasha had never seen him look shy before, and she decided she liked it.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Some dark expression crossed his features for a moment, but then it was gone as soon as it had appeared. Clint's eyes started to droop, and he mumbled, "'M tired."

Natasha leaned over and placed a kiss on the still-pink cheek."Then sleep, baby. Go to sleep."

Clint was still there the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started Uni again today, so apologies for any late chapters. But rest assured, I have a plan, and that plan will be written, else I shame myself forevermore. :)


	5. Feeling Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha runs into a bump in the road and tries to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the awesome Tori! :D

Natasha began to learn all sorts of things about Clint.

The next time Clint came over to her house, she had rope waiting for him on the coffee table. Clint only took one look at it, before he began to blush, looking down at his feet. He was suddenly twitchy, but stayed rooted where he stood. Natasha walked past him to the table and picked up the rope. She turned around to see Clint's eyes intently trained on her.

"Come here, Clint." She spoke with authority and Clint instantly swayed forward, coming to rest just in front of her. She could see the front of his jeans were already becoming too tight for comfort. She ran a finger over the outline of his cock and he gave a shudder.

"Well? Are you going to take off your clothes, or make me wait?" Natasha smirked playfully at the wide eyes he gave her, and the way it took him a moment before he sprung into action. He hurried to strip; taking off his shirt and letting it drop on the sofa,  unbuckling his belt and jeans he shoved everything down so that they rested around his ankles. When he tried to get his feet out though, he almost toppled over, because in his rush he had forgotten his shoes. Natasha chuckled at his mortified expression and helped him balance as he toed off his shoes and eventually, his pants.

When he was naked, standing in front of her, she was still softly laughing and Clint gave her a small smile. She took his hand and turned him around so that she could sit down on the sofa. She pulled him down in front of her until he was kneeling. She held the rope in front of Clint, and his eyes became hooded. Any doubt that she was making a wrong move disappeared from her mind.

"Hands out." Clint held his hands between them and Natasha began to wrap the rope around them; first around one, making intricate knots, and then she bind them together. She saw his eyes had slipped closed and that his breathing had slowed down. She continued to weave the remaining rope up his arms, and then across his chest and back up around his shoulders. She tightened the rope together, and pulled on the knots to make sure they were secured. When she was satisfied, she leaned back to appreciate her work.

Clint was gorgeous. The ropes formed a sort of harness around his torso and arms, securing his elbows to his waist, with his forearms bounded in front of him. She made sure the ropes weren't so tight that they would cause discomfort, but she knew that Clint would feel every inch of it, digging slightly into his skin and muscle. She looked up at his face and saw he was already relaxing, reveling in the rope's embrace. His cock was hard, but it didn't seem to be an urgent issue. She reached out a hand to stroke his cheek and he started, but quickly fell back into his lull when he saw her gentle expression.

"Come here, baby." She grabbed onto a rope that went across his chest and pulled slightly, steering him onto the sofa, to the space beside her. She maneuvered him until he was lying down on his back, with his head resting on her thigh. His eyes had fallen closed again, and he slightly turned his face so that he was nuzzling her hip. She stroked his hair, and marveled at his trust in her.

He seemed satisfied to just lie there, so she grabbed the book she had been reading before, and picked up where she'd left off. She continued her petting while she read, and every now and again he would sigh contently.

After a while, Natasha started to become distracted, and kept focusing more on Clint than the words on the pages. She started to lightly tug on his hair a bit, which elicited a low groan that Natasha felt, more than heard. She set her book down and gave him her full attention. With one hand buried in his hair, she snaked her other hand down his chest, running her fingers up and down nonchalantly, leaving a trail of goose-bumps in their wake.

When she lightly pinched and rolled a nipple between her fingers, he arched his back and gave a full moan. His cock, which had gone mostly soft, suddenly became more interested with the proceedings. Natasha enjoyed his reaction, and continued her assault on his nipples, rubbing and rolling them, alternating between soft, barely-there touches, and sudden hard squeezes. Clint was drinking it all up. He was moaning and writhing below her hands; caught between pulling back, trying to hide in the cushions under him, and arching up for more contact.

"Look at you, baby. So pretty, letting me touch you like this." Clint began to whine, and gasped at a particularly sharp twist of his sensitive skin.

His cock was steadily leaking pre-come by the time he started whimpering. He was achingly hard, and his hands were twitching to grab his cock, but he kept them where they were. Natasha noticed his restraint, and felt heat pool in her belly at the realization that he was waiting for her to allow him to get off.

With a yank of his hair that had him baring his throat to her, she asked him, "Do you want to come, baby?" She gave another hard twist of his nipple and Clint moaned throatily.

"Y-y-yes, please. P-please?" He arched up again when she ghosted her fingers over his chest.

"Then go for it, honey. Show me what you can do." She lessened her grip on his hair, and left her hand on his chest, her thumb rubbing almost absentmindedly across his hard nub. Clint reached for his cock with bound hands, and after a few seconds of fumbling with the awkward position, he found a good arrangement and began to move his cock between his hands. He gave a loud moan at the friction and used the pre-come at the head to slide it down his shaft, easing the way a little. Natasha had no doubt he could get off with just that, but she wanted to make it easier for him, so she grabbed the bottle of lube that she had placed on the table, and squeezed some out over his hands and cock. It was messy, and it spilled over his thighs, but the difference was instantaneous; Clint was groaning loudly at the easy slide of his throbbing cock in his hands, and he began to pump his hips up into his grip. Natasha resumed her ministrations on his chest, and started to pull his hair again. Clint's hands sped up, until he was squirming with all the sensations on his bound form.

"P-please?" He whimpered.

Natasha was surprised at the repeated request, but she quickly answered, "Come, Clint. Come for me."

Clint arched and contorted his body so violently that his back and hips came off the couch as he came hard. He let out a loud cry as a long string of come spurted out and dribbled down into his groin. His eyes were squeezed tight and he was still leaking when he collapsed back onto the sofa, his hands still working his member over. Natasha could see sporadic twitches in his thighs and stomach as he came down from his high, and she relaxed her hands so that they rested, unmoving, on his forehead and collarbone.

He didn't stop the rough movement of his hands, though, moving up and down on his softening cock. Pained whimpers started to replace his lusty moans He breathed harshly, moving his hands even faster, making his cock turn red. Natasha shushed him quietly, smoothing errant strands of hair back, and reached over his body to calmly tug his hands back. As soon as he let go of his dick, he desperately grabbed her hand and held on tightly as she placed their intertwined hands on his chest. She could see unshed tears at the corners of his eyes before he buried his face in her hip.

She continued to stroke his hair, and rubbed her other thumb across his knuckles that were slowly turning white. His grip on her was starting to be too much, so she spoke softly,

"Hey, baby, you're okay. Shhhh, you're doing great, Clint, you're okay." She continued to soothe him with low whispers and gentle words. He slowly relaxed again, loosening his grip on her and allowing blood to flow back into both of their hands.

Natasha ignored the prickles that itched her fingers and asked, "Do you want me to take the ropes off?" She moved her hand out of his grip to tug on a rope across his diaphragm, but Clint shook his head quickly.

"No, no, no, please, please, no," Clint mumbled into her hip. He tried to curl up, but the ropes didn't allow for much flexibility. She let go of the rope, and returned her hand to his, letting him hold on tight. She resumed her petting and ignored the growing wet patch on her hip as she watched Clint shake minutely.

As his breathing evened out, she knew that they would need to talk about what happened. She knew the ropes were as much of an anchor as she was to him, but she wasn't expecting him to try to punish himself: to over-stimulate himself to the point of pain. Though, she supposed, she probably should have seen that coming; you don't get over that much guilt with a few orgasms. Natasha decided that due to enjoying himself during their evenings he had triggered a guilty conscious: one that told him he shouldn’t have pleasure in any way.

When Clint was relaxed again, Natasha decided to broach the subject.

"Hey, sweetie." Clint stirred at her words, but made no other movement to respond.

"C'mon baby, let me see your pretty face." She squeezed his hands in encouragement, and Clint moved a little.

"That's it. C'mon, Clint, let me see you." Clint finally relented and turned his head so that he wasn't buried in her hip anymore, but he still refused to meet her gaze: instead, looking down at their entwined hands. He started to fidget a little with his fingers, rubbing them against hers.

"Clint, can you look at me? I wanna see your pretty eyes." Clint glanced up for a second and then looked back down at their hands.

Natasha stopped petting him, and instead gently pulled his hair back until his throat was bared again. He finally gave in, and looked at her, though he couldn't quite meet her eyes. She could see that his eyes were ringed red from crying.

"Hey there." She bent over and placed a kiss on his lips. She then moved to his nose and placed a light kiss there.  She gave him a smile as he relaxed in her grip. She let go of his hair and ran her fingers through it instead, ready to stop him if he decided to look down again.

"Do you like the ropes, baby?" She started off small. She didn't want him to feel attacked, so she made sure there was an easy smile on her face and she kept her tone light. "You look so good in them." She traced one of the ropes that went around his shoulder.

Color filled his cheeks as Clint nodded. She needed him to talk though, so she nudged him. He got the hint and cleared his voice.

"Yeah, yes. I, umm, I really like them." He fidgeted, nervous, and she knew he saw right through her. She couldn't back down though, this was too important is they were going to continue this relationship.

"And you liked it when I touched you?" Natasha continued, as if she was merely curious.

"Yes. I really like it." Clint was fighting himself to not look down, but even he couldn't help the quick glances away every now and again.

"Do you like it when I tell you what to do?" Natasha rubbed his fingers this time, trying to be comforting.

"Yes." He whispered his answer.

"Does it make you feel good, to follow what I say?" Clint let out a quiet noise at that, something caught between a whine and moan. He really didn't want this conversation to on, but Natasha was relentless.

"Hmm?" Natasha urged.

"Yes, yes it made me feel g-good." Natasha could barely hear him, but she definitely heard the stutter on the last word.

"Do you trust me?" That took Clint by surprise. His focus was completely on Natasha now, and his eyes widened. He looked so scared for a moment, as if he had hurt Natasha.

"Yes, yes. _Yes._ Of course I trust you, Tasha." It came out rushed and he was nodding his head hastily. His hands squeezed her hand tighter and pulled it closer to his chest.

"Do you trust me to know what you need, and what's good for you? And, what is bad for you?" Clint was catching on, and a look of shame filled his expression.

Clint whimpered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Tash, I'm sorry."

Natasha didn't want him to feel bad, that wasn't the goal of this conversation, so she bent over again and silenced him with a long, hard kiss. He opened up for her, and she took over, letting her tongue explore his mouth. She gripped his hair again and pulled him to her, deepening the kiss. When he let out a moan, she pulled back slightly, gently biting his lower lip. 

"You're _such_ a good boy." Natasha whispered. Clint gave another whimper at the intensity of her gaze on him along with the praise.

"You can take what I give you, baby, I know you can. But trust me to take care of you, okay?"

Clint buried his face in her hip again, and she could hear him muffling, "yes", and "I trust you," and "I'm sorry". It broke Natasha's heart to hear him so lost.

After a while, she helped him up, and led him to her bedroom, where she delicately unfastened the bindings. She kissed the red lines and grooves on his skin where the ropes had leftbehind its evidence. She guided him to bed, and pulled him close to her, all the while telling him how good and beautiful he is. He fell asleep in her arms, where she could feel tear tracks drying.

She could do this, she thought. She could actually do this without fucking it up. She knew she could, because she had a better idea of who Clint was, and what he needed.

He slept at her house that night.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~

The next time she tied Clint up, she used a gag.

He had knocked on her door, and she had let him in, like usual. But when he paused by the sofa, she just took his hand and led him directly to the bedroom where she had everything laid out neatly on the bed. He shed his clothes silently before she told him to kneel on the bed, facing her. She began to tie the ropes, but this time, she tied his hands behind him, to his ankles, so that he couldn't change positions. This forced him to sit on his heels and stick out his chest a bit, baring himself to her. She took full advantage and trailed her hands all over his body, playing with his nipples until they were taut and sensitive.

She could see he was still thinking about last time, and she could read the tension in his body; he was wired with anticipation, but not the good kind. He was waiting to fuck-up again and she needed him to get out of that mind set. She finished with the ropes; this time they went around his whole body. He had a similar harness as before, one that accentuated his pecs, and it criss-crossed back and forth across his stomach down to his groin and thighs. His cock and balls were left alone, though, for now. He was half-hard already, so she gave him a few strokes, making him moan.

She got up from the bed, and walked to her desk where she had a bottle of water waiting. She picked it up and brought it back to the bed, where she uncapped it and offered the drink to Clint. He looked at it questioningly, but accepted it when she persisted. When he drank about half of the bottle, she capped it again and set it back down on the bedside table, where she grabbed something else. Clint seemed to have caught on that he hadn't trusted Natasha with the water, not that she blamed him; he is a spy after all and he is supposed to be wary of everything. But she figured that any sign of doubt in his trust in her would not go over well with him, and like she had predicted, he started to get antsy.

"I'm sorry, Tasha, I didn't me-" She didn't let him finish.

She surged forward and kissed him, effectively silencing him. In his surprise, he opened up to her and she licked her way in. She kept kissing him, bringing a hand up to the back his neck and threading her fingers in his hair. He let her take over and closed his eyes, getting lost in the sensation, when she suddenly backed off. He had barely opened his eyes when she raised her hands -holding the gag- towards his mouth. She fastened it behind his head before he knew what had happened. It was a medium sized ball gag, and Clint had no choice but to let it invade his mouth. His first instinct was to fight it, but because he was bound, he could only squirm futilely. He tried to move his mouth around it, trying to get his teeth and lips in a better position, but due to the size he wasn't able to get very far. When he realized this, he relaxed instantly and closed his eyes, breathing out slowly.

"Perfect." Natasha praised him, and his moan was muffled by the gag. At the suppressed sound, Clint gave another moan and a full body shudder.

Her hands went everywhere and were relentless. She would stroke him once, twice and then leave his cock alone to play with his nipples. Clint was becoming a mess with the teasing she was doing. He was gasping and breathing harshly through the gag with every brush of her fingers across his heated skin. She would continuously switch from light to hard touches and he could only accept everything she gave him.

His cock was dripping when Natasha decided to do something different. She placed both her palms on his chest and pushed, robbing Clint of his balance and having him fall backwards on the bed.  Now, he was truly pinned, with his hands and legs trapped underneath his body. The new position put a slight strain on his body, and he squirmed until he was comfortable, his chest arching up. His cock was erect and standing proudly, and she gave him another stroke and a swipe at the head, causing Clint to cry out through the gag.

She leaned over his body and kissed his collarbone, moving up towards his neck, where she gave him an easy bite. She could feel his groan in her chest where she was lightly resting on him, and she sucked a bruise on top of the already sensitive bite. She made her way down his body, kissing, sucking and biting. She spent time on his abused nipples, licking and worrying the skin under her teeth. Clint was squirming and gasping, trying to buck up into Natasha but he was unable to because of his position. She continued her oral exploration of his body, enjoying the chance to kiss his stomach, and watching the muscles contract and spasm. He was ticklish there, she realized, and she prodded him lightly just to hear him whimper and see him wriggle.

She smoothed her hands over his sides, and moved further south until she was kissing the fine blonde hairs around his groin. Clint had gone still and was holding his breath. Natasha could feel heat radiating from everywhere on his body. She slid her hands under his ass, and gripped the flesh, tugging his groin towards her at the same time that she swallowed him to the root. Clint's scream was muffled through the gag, and his body arched up even more; Natasha anticipated the move and shifted up with him.

She began to go to town; sucking and licking up and down his cock, swirling her tongue around the tip and underneath the head, tracing the vein that ran through there. Clint was breathless and restless, trying to get more of Natasha's mouth, and trying to get away from the onslaught of sensation, moaning and crying out when she did a particular flick of her tongue across the head of his cock. She kissed down the shaft and mouthed at his balls, taking one in her mouth and then the other. Her hands were alternatively squeezing his ass, and running up and down over his skin.

When she heard him start whining in a higher pitch, she knew he was about to come, so she let go of his balls and licked up the shaft, only to swallow him whole again. She relaxed her throat and started bobbing up and down quickly, sucking hard. Clint screamed again as his cock gave a twitch in her mouth, and she could taste the salty bitter come flooding her mouth. She swallowed and kept gently sucking his softening cock.

When he finally stopped trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm, Natasha backed off leaning on her forearms to see the view before her. Clint was a total mess. His hair was matted with sweat and was plastered against his face and sticking up in odd places. He had tear tracks running down his face, and saliva had dripped from the corners of his mouth. His eyes were shut tight, and he was still panting, trying to get his breath back under control.

"Fuck." Natasha sighed emphatically. Clint cracked open his eyes and looked at her. "You look so fucking gorgeous." Clint turned his face to the side in a poor attempt to hide his face but Natasha brought her hand up and cradled his face towards her, her thumb brushing lightly at his cheek. She leaned over and kissed the corners of his mouth, around the gag. He sighed a ragged breath but turned towards her, bumping against her cheek. She chuckled and kissed him on the nose. 

She leaned back and moved around his body until she was cross-legged near his head. She brought her hands up until they were resting tentatively on the straps of the gag, a silent question to take it off. Clint nodded, and she unbuckled the straps, gently tugging the gag out of his mouth. Clint breathed in deeply, and twisted his head around until he found her hand against his face again. She loved that he was so affectionate like this, and she brushed her fingers against his cheek lazily, enjoying the expressions on his face.

"Can I kiss you?" Clint asked suddenly. His voice was ragged and he sounded tired, but his eyes were bright and looking directly at Natasha.   


Natasha smiled and said, "Of course. C'mere."

She helped him get back up, and steadied him until he got his balance. Still tied and kneeling, he rocked forward awkwardly until he was an inch away from her face. Her hands were still on him, holding him but not guiding or directing him in any way. He finally closed the space between them and pressed his lips against hers. It was chaste and simple and yet so fucking intimate. Natasha felt a prick at the corner of her eyes for a moment, and gasped out in surprise when Clint leaned back. He had his easy smile back on his face, and then he bowed forward until he was resting his head on her shoulder.

Natasha brought him close, her arms wrapping around his body. She pressed her face into his hair , and held on to him tightly, breathing out in controlled, slow breaths.

She held on to him until she knew they had to move; she slowly untangled his limbs from each other, tossing the restraints from the bed. She rubbed his muscles, knowing they were probably very stiff and sore: her own muscles were screaming to relax, so she indulged them both by stretching out on the bed. Clint simply sighed happily as he tiredly squirmed to rest his head on her shoulder. Almost as an afterthought, she grabbed the forgotten water bottle and offered it to Clint again. He leaned up and immediately drank some water, before he lifted his face and snuggled back into her, mumbling, "You drink some."

By the time she brought the bottle to her lips, he was asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys are still reading this, you're awesome. Let me know what you think!


	6. Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha undoes Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the amazing Tori!!!!

Natasha could see the changes in Clint. He no longer had deep shadows under his eyes, and he was starting to put on more weight. When she saw him at headquarters, he still avoided people but he wasn't shackled to the shadows like before. Agents seemed to feel the difference and the stupid bullying trickled out of sight. They still kept their distance and gave him a wide berth, but it didn't seem as cruel as before. Occasionally, a rookie would approach him to give him his paperwork and instead of taking flight the moment the papers left their hands, they might say hello and offer Clint a good day. Once Natasha caught an excited rookie talking at Clint about differences with bows and arrows, while Clint just smiled pleasantly, content to have anybody talk to him, even if it was just an overenthusiastic girl barely out of college. If Natasha quietly helped that girl along with her exams and threatened the idiot male rookies for harassing her, well, nobody would blame her. Mainly because nobody would be able to catch the Black Widow.

Natasha still maintained her routine during the day. She hadn't had a mission since before New York because SHIELD wanted her to lay low. Her face had been plastered all over the news the first few days, and even if they weren't the best shots of her, it was still too risky to do undercover work so soon. She was itching to get out of the office though; tired of dealing with lower ranking agents and doing mountains worth of paperwork. That had been Coulson's job. Even though Sitwell was the interim agent in Coulson's absence, Natasha had told Fury that she would take care of the rest of Coulson's work. She had left no room for argument, and as Fury hadn't said otherwise, she had taken everything from Coulson's office into her own. This was her self-made duty to him, and her own version of respecting him.

She knew that the day after she had taken the folders and files, Clint had come into her office and had taken a stack. Like her, he had a similar sense of duty to their previous handler. She figured though, that he hadn't actually done the paperwork, but she doubted anyone was going to come looking for them.

When she wasn't in her office, she was typically pushing her body to the limits downstairs in the gym. Most of the rookies, by now, knew to never accept a challenge from Agent Natasha Romanov, so she was mostly on her own with the punching bags. Clint used to spar with her, mainly because he was the only one crazy enough to take her on even if he sometimes took her by surprise and landed her on her ass. But that was months ago, and he still wasn't ready for that kind of camaraderie again.

Even if at night he would lie down on her bed sheets and open up to her in a way, she thinks, he's never opened up to anybody before. Even if he always makes a surprised noise, something between a shocked gasp and a rumbling groan when she takes him in her mouth. Even if he writhes under her hand that trails over every inch of his naked skin. Even if Natasha plays his body like an instrument and extracts the most amazing notes from his throat. Even then, he's still not comfortable enough, not quite sure of himself, not able to trust himself to be who he was before.

But he's getting there. Slowly, he's trudging along, but not alone. Natasha makes sure he's never alone in this battle.

And tonight, she brought a little surprise for him.

Tonight, Clint was spread across her bed, wrists in soft leather cuffs that attached to the bedposts, arms apart. She had a feeling that Clint liked being tied to the bed more than to himself, that he liked having something to fight against that's not him for once. And she's more than willing to give it to him.

He was already hard, and she hadn't even done anything but tie him.

"I have something for you tonight." She told him. They had vaguely played around with some toys, a cock ring or a dildo, and the results were always spectacular. But she was still wary of bringing in too much to their scenes. While Clint seemed fine and comfortable with what she usually brought with her, she didn't want to push him towards a bad scene. That was why he was not gagged this time; she wanted to hear any protestations he may have, though he never voiced any.

Tonight, Clint was alert, and she could see the nervous, excited tension running through his naked body. Natasha was already in her black bra and panties as she stood up from the bed to walk over to the drawers where she pulled out two objects. She turned back and crawled into bed, kneeling beside Clint, who had stared at her the whole time, eyes bright. Natasha couldn't resist touching her fingertips to his face, and she loved how he leaned towards her touch.

"Look." She presented to him the two objects. They were pretty simple to identify: one was a long anal plug, and the other, a remote of some sort. When Clint recognized what they were, his pupils dilated and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Do you want to play with these?" She always asked, even if she knew his answer before he said it.

"Yes." His voice was low and hushed, but Natasha was so happy to see the improvement that he was speaking rather than nodding. It was still hard to get him to talk sometimes, but he was getting better.

"Excellent." Natasha moved her hand down from his face to touch his throat, feeling the way Clint swallowed. She continued down to rub at a nipple and then switched to the other, earning a cut-off moan. When Natasha looked up, she saw he had ducked his head into his shoulder. Clint was feeling self-conscious today, she realized. Sometimes he got like that, trying to stifle his sounds, and Natasha did not like that. She wanted to hear him unfiltered and honest, unable to help himself with what escaped his mouth. So she continued to play with his chest, setting down the plug and remote to use both her hands, until he was panting and whining, wriggling from the attention.

"Such a good boy for me, aren't you?" Natasha cooed. Clint gave a particular loud moan when she flicked the hard nub. He was completely hard, a bead of white at the head, and a slight shimmer of sweat was appearing on his skin. By the end of the night, he'd be drenched.

Natasha ran her fingers down his body, pressing into the skin here and there, and avoiding his cock completely. When Clint realized her hands had passed where he wanted them to go, he gave a long whine and canted his hips up a little.

Natasha tutted, and gave him a playful slap on the hip, saying, "Now, now. That's not what I have planned for you tonight." Clint stilled, or at least tried; Natasha was making slow circles with her thumb and fingers on the sensitive skin on the insides of his thighs. He spread his legs further to give her more access, and she took advantage of it by teasing him with tantalizing touches. She stroked her finger over his perineum and brushed over his hole, watching the muscles contract there. Clint groaned when he realized she wasn't going to make it easy for him today.

Natasha suddenly leaned over him for a moment to grab the bottle of lube, and maneuvered around until she was sitting cross-legged in the space between his legs. Natasha hummed and murmured, "C'mere." And pulled Clint's legs towards her a little more, making his body go taut. She uncapped the lubricant and poured some on her fingers. At the clicking sound of the cap, Clint unconsciously moved his hips up and spread his legs even more. Natasha traced her fingers around his hole, enticing a sound caught between a moan and a whine from Clint. He tried to push down to get more than the teasing touches, and Natasha removed her hands completely until he settled back down. She continued her maddening touches, watching him wind up until she suddenly pressed a finger inside.

"Fu-uck!" Clint gasped at the intrusion and immediately tried to push down on her hand. She removed her finger, hearing Clint whine loudly, and added more lube. She started to lazily thrust her finger in and out of Clint while he moaned throatily. With her other hand she had been continuing her soft touches, rubbing the insides of his thighs while she felt him clench down on her fingers, body asking for more. So she squeezed out more lube, rubbing it between her fingers and slowly pushed in two digits. Clint trembled around her while he arched up.

"You're doing so well, baby. Look at you, taking it so sweetly." Natasha praised him. She kept pumping her fingers, and started to twist on the upstroke.

"So tight and warm. And all just for me, right, sweetie?" Clint just hushed out a series of "yesyesyesyesyes" and a "please!". She lightly pinched the tender skin of his inner thigh at the same time that she added a third finger, and Clint jerked with a gasp and a cry.

"Ahh! Tasha, ple-ease!" Clint was shuddering involuntarily and kept shaking his head from side to side.

Natasha deliberately slowed her pace. "Yes, baby? What do you want?" Her voice was honey.

"F-faster?" Clint asked, breathlessly.

"Oh, baby, don't you worry. I know what you need." Natasha kept her pace slow, spreading him more. She then curled her fingers up and found the little tight bundle of nerves. She pressed hard against it and watched as Clint gave a dry sob and looked as if he'd been shot with electricity. She kept stroking his prostate, none too gently. Clint whimpered; he was pulling on his cuffs, hands forming into tight balls and then trying to grasp something, anything, and failing.

Clint gave another whimper-whine when she removed her fingers, but it quickly turned into a moan when she grabbed the plug and started to thrust it in. She watched as his pucker initially rejected the object and then accepted it, clenching around it. She fucked him shallowly with the plug before pushing it in steadily. She kept going until it was lodged deeply in Clint and it had settled nicely around the base. She looked up at his face and saw only bliss in his sweaty face.

Clint was fidgeting, feeling every inch of the plug snug against his prostate. Natasha could only smirk, because he was going to be feeling it a lot more in a moment. She grabbed the remote and gave Clint a minute to adjust to the plug.

"Are you ready?" Clint looked at her with wide eyes and a tired smile. Natasha ducked down and gave him a quick kiss on his thigh before straightening up and turning on the remote. She could hear the imperceptible hum of the plug vibrating inside of Clint, as he arched up off the bed again with a cry.

"There you go." Natasha turned it up another level, and Clint was already panting heavily. She resumed her touches on his skin, exploring everywhere and kneading the quivering muscles, never going near his dripping cock.

"Tash-, please, Tasha," Clint whimpered.

"What is it, baby?" Natasha brought a hand to the base of the plug, and traced around the edge where the plastic met his skin.

Clint sucked in a sharp breath at that, and it took a moment for him to string a sentence. "Please, I need-, can you-, ah!" Natasha raised the vibrations to the next level.

"Yes?" Natasha was nothing but patient.

"Canyoupleasetouchme?" His words jumbled together in a desperate plea.

Natasha pointedly rubbed the 'V' of his groin and brushed the back of her fingers against the base of the plug. "I _am_ touching you." She smiled wickedly as Clint tried to glare at her, but failed miserably.

She simply chuckled, "oh sweetie," and grabbed the end of the plug and started to twist it. Slowly, she pulled on it, until it was halfway out, before thrusting it back in hard. Clint let out a choked cry while Natasha set up a fast pace, thrusts turning hard as she ground the plug into his prostate.

Clint was continuously moaning and she could see some tears leaking out to mingle with sweat. She was relentless as she fucked him, hitting his prostate dead-on every time, and she was enjoying the view of Clint shaking from the exertion. His muscles were trembling and his knuckles were going white from where they were balled up, useless.

"Please!" Clint cried out on a hard thrust. Natasha abruptly pulled out the plug and switched it off. She ran her hands up and down his legs and over his stomach, up to his chest while he thrashed violently from the sudden lack of stimulation.

Clint was an incoherent mess. His cock was steadily dripping precome that was being flicked over his stomach as he jerked his whole body. Natasha simply rubbed it into his skin as she massaged his whole frame, waiting patiently for him to calm down.

When Clint's shaking had gone down to a faint tremor, and his breathing had quieted, Natasha started again. Her hands returned to his nipples where she started off with soft swipes over his hard nubs. Clint whimpered as her touches turned to pinches and rough flicks at his skin. When Clint was breathing heavily again, Natasha ran her hands down his body, over the contours of his ribs and abs, trailing along his stomach and into the fine blonde hairs of his groin, before bypassing completely his still rock-hard erection. Clint whined something unintelligible when she easily slipped two fingers inside him, leisurely pushing in and out.

"So good for me." Natasha murmured, keeping her unhurried pace as Clint was being wound up again. She crooked her fingers and deliberately ground against his prostate. Clint wheezed at the overwhelming sensations, and began to shiver hard again. She kept her merciless pace, adding a third finger on a thrust in.

"Tasha-, please, can I-?" He cut himself off on a grunt. "Le-let me come?" Clint begged.

"Of course sweetie. Come whenever you'd like." Clint gave a hoarse groan when she sped up her hand, that turned into a high whine when she still didn’t touch his cock. Natasha grabbed the plug and swiftly replaced her fingers with it. She turned it on to the highest setting, and Clint started thrashing again, bucking off the bed.

Over his harsh panting, Natasha repeated, "Whenever you'd like, baby." She grabbed the base of the plug and started driving it directly onto his prostate at a relentless speed. Clint arched off the bed one last time as he violently came with a high wail. Come spurted out of his neglected cock and landed on his stomach and chest and he contorted his body in an attempt to shy away from the vibrations. Natasha simply grabbed his thighs, and kept the plug in motion, still fucking him through his orgasm and watching him clench down repeatedly on the relentless object. His whole body was being wracked with sobs as he tried to squirm away, but Natasha just held onto him tighter.

"Pl-please! S-st-stop!" Clint gasped as the plug dug viciously into him. Natasha just turned down the vibrations one level, then another, but continued her hard thrusts. Clint was crying and whimpering, head buried into the crook of his shoulder.

"Look at how well you take it, Clint." Natasha turned down another level, and slowed her pace, but still used the same force, earning a helpless jerk every time she drove the plug in. Clint was sniffling and choking on cries every time he felt his prostate hit. She lowered another level, and slowed again, watching his stomach twitch with every inward push.

"You're doing so well, baby. God, you're just so perfect." Natasha said, awe coloring her voice. Clint was overwhelmed by the combination of gentle praise and rough sensations and he sobbed into his arm, tears falling down his face. Natasha turned off the plug, but still kept it in motion, slowing down until she was just lazily fucking him again.

Finally, she removed the plug, and tossed it to the side, along with the remote. Clint was still twitching and crying as Natasha stretched up over him, one hand gently turning his face away from his arm to look at her. At her insistence, Clint relented. Natasha lowered her body onto Clint's and effectively pinned him down, skin sticking to sweaty skin. Whether it was due to post-orgasm emotions after their session or the feeling of security Tasha was giving him - or a combination of both - Clint started to cry harder. Natasha tucked his head under her chin, and ran her hands soothingly over him, bringing him closer when he whimpered.

"Shh, baby. You're okay. You did so good for me, honey." She whispered sweet praises into his matted hair, and reached up occasionally to wipe a tear from his cheek. Clint breathed deeply under Natasha, muscles relaxing one by one, as he tried to calm down. He was still sniffling, but he was considerably calmer when Natasha lifted herself off of Clint slowly.

She padded to the bathroom and came back with a damp towel, starting to methodically clean Clint. He had quieted down, and was watching Natasha as she wiped the come and sweat from his chest, down to his stomach and in between his legs to catch the sticky lube there. When she was done, she tossed the towel in the direction of the bathroom, and turned back to face Clint. She began to unfasten the cuffs, and held each hand in hers, bringing it up to her mouth so she could kiss each finger before lowering his arm to his side. Clint had closed his eyes for each kiss and opened them again to watch her settle beside him, snuggling up to his warm body and maneuvering herself until his arm was wrapped around her.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, listening to each other breath. Natasha had her head on his chest, and could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady under her. Eventually she turned her head up to look at Clint and asked softly, "Was that good?"

Clint swallowed hard at the open and honest expression in her face and smiled wide. He held onto her tighter and said, "That was perfect. Thank you, Tasha."

Natasha mirrored his smile and stretched up to kiss him on the lips. She broke off to rest her head back where it had been on his chest, and brought her hand up to cover his heart.

They both drifted off like that, with Clint's protective arm around her, and Natasha's protective hand on him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all still reading! :D


	7. Dark Shines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha indulges Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the ever-lovely Tori.

Clint whimpered into her neck. He was clutching Natasha's back as her hand sped up on his cock. She was whispering encouragements, saying how perfect and good he was while urging him to let go. She shifted on top of him, changing the angle slightly, twisting her wrist on the upstroke. Her other hand was by Clint's head, holding herself up, breasts brushing against his chest as the force of her strokes and his thrusts moved her body. 

Suddenly, Clint tightened his hold on Natasha's back and drove forcefully into her hand, arching up into her body as he cried out, coming hard. Natasha stroked him through the aftershocks, leaving his cock messy and twitching. Relaxing back into the bed, Clint lolled his head on the pillow, a goofy smile spreading across his face. Natasha's return smile was unseen as she bent over and surprised Clint with a quick kiss before shoving herself off of the bed, swinging her legs over the side and strutting to the bathroom to get a washcloth. She ran it under the tap and came back to bed to wipe the cooling come from Clint's abdomen. Clint reached out blindly for Natasha to find her wrists and gently circle them with his hands, fingers overlapping themselves. Natasha dropped the washcloths and followed Clint's lead as he pulled her on top of him again. 

She settled herself on Clint, ignoring the drying skin that was sticking to her own; she was only wearing some lace panties. She braced her weight on his chest as she lifted her hands to Clint's head and slowly tugged down the simple blindfold that she had added earlier. Clint's brilliant green eyes immediately found hers, and a sloppy smile split his face. His arms wrapped themselves around her, and one hand started playing with the hair that draped over her shoulders. 

"Better?" Natasha asked as she folded her arms on his chest, forming a pillow underneath her chin.

"Mmhmm." Clint hummed agreeably as he picked up a strand of hair and watched as it fell over her face when he let go. Natasha blew on the hair and laughed when it landed on Clint's nose and mouth and he made a wrinkling face. He brushed it out of his face and then rubbed his nose, chasing away the tickling feeling. Natasha smiled and closed her eyes. Clint had had a tough day and had come to her earlier in the afternoon than usual.

Natasha was happy with Clint's reactions. She had had reservations about using the blindfold, thinking that it was going to put Clint off, and sure enough, he had reacted less than enthusiastically when she had presented it to him. She didn't blame him in the least: Clint was an archer and a sniper that relied heavily on his eyesight. Taking that away would mean taking away the last of his control and she wasn't sure if he would give that to her. But he had. He had been extremely wary of the black piece of cloth, and when she approached him, he had flinched back, whispering "wait." It hadn't been a "no" and Natasha had simply waited. 

She had sat on the bed until he had come to kneel in front of her, hands gripping her knees tightly, and he had bowed his head on to her thighs. She had run her fingers through his hair and lifted his head up slightly. She had bent down and kissed each eyelid before bringing up the blindfold and covered his eyes. Clint had stilled immediately and Natasha hadn't been one hundred percent sure he wasn't going to rip it off and defend himself. By the time she had fastened it behind his head, his grip on her had doubled, almost to the point of pain. She was about to take it off and cut her losses when she felt his grip relax minutely. She carded her fingers through his hair the best she could with the cloth in her way, and had lightly scratched the back of his neck. 

Clint gave a soft whimper and had begged, "Talk to me?"

And she did. 

She had guided him up to the bed and had laid him down, all the while talking softly about nothing and everything. She had told him about her day, how she'd had to deal with some wet-behind-the-ear rookies while she peeled off Clint's clothes. She had told him about how she had to go visit Stark next week because he'd done something stupid _again_ , and she had to fix it _again_ , while she ran her hands over Clint's chest. She had told him how much she liked his laugh when they watched Star Wars, and how she loves to tease him about liking Disney movies while she poured lube over Clint's stiff cock. 

Clint had relaxed and given in, attention focusing on her voice and her hands. He melted under Natasha's care and let her lead him. He followed her wherever she brought him.

And here they were, skin sticking to skin, breathing each others air, and just content to be.

"Tasha?" Clint was still tangling his hand in her hair like a sort of therapeutic action.

Natasha blinked open her eyes. "Yes?"

Clint was quiet for a moment and she could see him trying to work out how to phrase his next question. She brought up a hand to touch his cheek and he looked down at her. "Clint?" She edged him on. 

"How come you don't get off when we do this? It doesn't really seem fair that I'm always on the receiving end when you definitely deserve-" Natasha placed a finger on his lips and he fell silent, watching her. Clint's question had surprised her, even though she'd figured that he would eventually ask. 

"This has never been about me, Clint." His eyes widened a bit and he was about to protest when she shot him a look. He closed his mouth and let her continue. "This has always been about you from the start. You needed me, and I helped you." She dropped to give him a kiss on his collarbone. 

Clint mulled it over before asking quietly, "Does that mean you don't like this?" Natasha brought up her head to see that Clint wasn't looking at her anymore, but at the ceiling. 

"Hey. _Hey._ " Clint blinked back to her. "Who said I don't like this? Do you have any idea what you do to me, Clint? How it makes me feel when I see you spread out and begging for me? Do you have any idea what it feels like to have so much control over you?" A faint blush colored Clint's face as she spoke. 

"I most _definitely_ like this. I enjoy it a lot." She smiled openly at him. 

"Can I see you come?" Clint's voice was a whisper, and Natasha felt a rush of heat to her belly and a overwhelming sense of pride at seeing Clint's honest face. He looked so young and pure in that moment and Natasha gave in to the urge to kiss him hard, licking her way into his mouth. 

She pulled back to give Clint a wicked look, saying, "I don't know, _can_ you?" as she tugged on the blindfold that was still around his neck. 

Clint groaned and rolled his eyes and said, "I can't believe you're still making grammar jokes. Your English is perfectly fine." Natasha just raised an eyebrow and put on an innocent face. Clint grinned at her and trailed his hands to her lower back.

"Does that mean I can help you?" Clint asked cheekily, but Natasha could hear the slight waver in his voice. Despite his brave face and her constant reassurances, he was still afraid she would leave him if he said the wrong thing.

Natasha rolled her hips into his, and felt his cock stir. Her voice dropped into a sultry range, "I certainly hope so." Clint's fingers twitched on her skin as he gave a low groan. Natasha smirked.

"Hmm, I said you could help me," She started to lean back, straddling his hips and digging into his groin, "Not that you could help yourself." She trailed her hands along his muscled arms and lightly pulled on his wrists. Clint looked at her, slight confusion in his face, but he let her move his limbs. She pulled his arms above him and leaned over his face. It took all of Clint's control to not put his mouth on her breasts that were hanging right above him, and he gave a soft whine. He was so distracted that he didn't hear the _click_ of the leather-lined cuffs around his wrists. It wasn't until Natasha was sitting up again and he tried to follow her, that he realized he couldn't move. Natasha smirked at him again when he let out a long breath. 

Natasha began to roll her hips slowly, rubbing herself on his increasingly excited cock and let her hands trail up her own body. She brought her hands up to her breasts and started to knead them, a soft gasp escaping her throat. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of her hands lightly pinching and rolling her nipples while she felt wet heat spreading between her legs. She hummed happily when she felt Clint's cock completely erect against her and started to roll her hips harder. Her eyes flew open when she heard a strangled moan and saw Clint: his eyes were wide open, dark with hugely dilated pupils, mouth open and slightly panting. His hands were clenching tightly in their restraints and he was making small, aborted shifts with his hips.

"Hmmm. Like what you see, baby?" Natasha breathed out. The answering look and groan Clint gave her sent another wave of arousal coursing through her. Her thighs instinctively squeezed around his hips when she felt his cock twitch. She stopped fondling her breasts to place her hands on his chest and push off his body. Clint's whole body lifted as if to follow her and a sharp whine escaped his mouth when he found that he couldn't. She knelt beside him and shimmied out of her soaking panties, throwing it over the bed. She leaned over to the drawer by the bed and opened it, pulling something out. When she turned back, Clint groaned throatily when he saw she was opening a little foil square and taking out the condom. She grabbed his erection and stroked it up and down before rolling on the condom. 

Natasha resumed her earlier position and dragged herself over his cock, making her moan at the friction. 

"Hmm, ready, baby?" Clint could only swallow and nod, his complete attention focused on her lithe body pleasuring itself on his body. She placed one hand back on his chest and lifted her hips, her other hand taking his cock and positioning it under her. Her eyes snapped up to meet his and held his gaze as she slowly lowered herself on his cock. Clint made a sound as if he'd just gotten punched but he could not tear his eyes away from hers. Natasha sank lower until she was flush with his thighs, pink coloring her cheeks to offset the red curls of her hair framing her face. She was panting slightly as she stilled, getting used to Clint being so deep inside her. It was unreal and dizzying and she had to brace herself on his chest to stop herself from falling on top of him. Clint's fingers were twitching above his head, and it was taking control he didn't know he had to not thrust up into her perfect heat. 

They were still looking at each other when Clint whimpered softly and Natasha did an experimental roll of her hips. She groaned at the full feeling and did it again, gasping as she found a good angle. Her hands were still pressing into Clint's chest, and she suddenly needed to taste him. She bent over and licked the sweaty skin between his pectorals before moving to kiss his collarbones. She bit lightly at the tendon running from his shoulder to his neck and moaned loudly when Clint reacted by thrusting up into her. Clint stilled and looked at her guiltily when she turned her head to watch him. She suddenly bent her head and kissed him filthily, teeth clashing while she bit at lips and sucked on his tongue. 

She followed a sloppy trail down his stubble cheek to breathe harshly in his ear, "Do that again." 

Clint exhaled harshly and rolled his hips again, driving into her. Natasha threw her head back and said, "Again." He did it again and then shifted his legs to get a better vantage angle, making Natasha gasp sharply at the change. "Again!" He did.

They set a rhythm like that, with Natasha telling him how fast or often to thrust; she started to grip his thighs and force herself down to meet his upward thrusts. Soon she was just letting out a combination of moans and gasps along with her mantra of "again, again, again, again," until she wasn't sure if his thrusts were going in time with her voice. 

Clint was making low groans that were slowly starting to raise in pitch as she went faster. She realized he was muttering something and caught a few words like, "C'mon", "please" and "let me see you come."

Feeling herself getting nearer to her peak and inspired by Clint's pleas, she quickened her pace, changing her "agains" to "That's it Clint, make me come. C'mon, help me here." 

She brought a hand to brush where they were connected and both gasped sharply at the touch. She started to rub her clit while she rode Clint, whispering, "C'mon baby, just a little more."

Clint was too far gone for words and was straining against the cuffs, chest heaving. Drops of sweat were falling from Natasha onto Clint that just spurred him on faster still as he watched her above him. Little high moans were escaping Natasha's mouth as her muscles started contracting on Clint. One particularly enthusiastic thrust into her had her falling over the edge, inner walls fluttering as she clenched down hard on his cock. She let out a loud cry that vaguely sounded Russian as she came hard, doubling over to drop her head on Clint's chest. She kept rolling hips to prolong her orgasm and shuddered with all the jolts of pleasure that kept coursing through her body. 

When she finally recovered enough, the first thing she noticed was that Clint was still hard and twitching inside of her. She took a shuddering breath and peered up at his face; his cheeks were pink from exertion and his mouth was hanging open, shiny with spit. He was still panting and she could feel his muscles rippling underneath her as he writhed from being so turned on. His eyes were wild with lust and awe and were completely focused on Natasha, taking in the sight; her cheeks were just as red as his, and her hair was mussed and matted with sweat that glistened on her pale skin. Her full breasts were pressed against him and he could feel her slide as she breathed in deeply. She had a satisfied grin on her face, her bottom lip sucked in between her teeth. 

And of course she couldn't miss how he was still achingly hard inside of her.

"D'you wanna come, baby?" Natasha practically purred. She stretched herself upwards and rolled her hips pointedly, cock still inside. 

Clint softly whined and whispered, "Please?"

Natasha kept moving her hips, pushing past her sensitive nerves. "Let me see it, then. Come for me." She picked up the pace again and gripped his thighs. She pushed herself on him and watched as he almost vibrated with the tension. He was breathing hard, and he began to thrust against her in counter motion. His balls were tightening up against his body as he neared the edge.

"C'mon, Clint. Come in me."

That was all it took for Clint to come harder than he ever had in his life. 

Clint almost threw Natasha off of him with the force of it; his body snapped up and his back bowed as he screamed out his completion. He sagged back on the bed with ragged breaths and fluttering eyes while Natasha continued little movements on his softening cock. She finally stopped and let him slip out, deftly removing and tying the condom, throwing it in the direction of the trash. She then simply laid herself on top of Clint, paying no heed to the sweat mingling between their bodies. They both breathed hard with their chests moving in time with each others. Natasha's head was tucked into his neck, and she watched as a drop of sweat made its way down the curve of his throat to pool down in the space where his neck met his chest. The air smelled of sweat and sex and they both breathed it in deeply, reveling in their post-sex haze.

Clint cleared his throat and sucked a breath in. She felt his every little move and she traced her fingers over his collarbones and neck.

She felt and heard Clint breathe out and ask, "Better?"

Natasha stilled for a moment, and then let out a bark of laughter which set off Clint. They both kept laughing and it turned into one of those times where you just can't stop the full laughter that starts in your belly and it goes on forever. Natasha rolled off of Clint onto her back beside him, and curled in on herself from the force of the laughter. She could feel Clint shaking at her back. When she could catch her breath again, she rolled back to face Clint, but one look at his face and she fell apart again.

Eventually the laughter subsided into giggles and then random intakes of breaths. With a big sigh, Natasha said, "Yeah. I am." Clint giggled again and Natasha sniggered as she dragged herself up to a sitting position. Still grinning wide, she began to release Clint from his restraints. She traced the imprints around the red skin and brought his hand to her lap as Clint rolled onto his side so he could face her. 

She was still trailing her fingertips along his forearms when he twisted his wrists to take her hands in his. His fingers rubbed against hers as he said, "You're wrong, though."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, but he was looking at their intertwined hands. "What about?" Natasha asked, her curiosity piqued.

"This isn't just about me. Like, I know you think that _this_ ," He bounced their hands on the mattress, "is just for me, but I don't think it is; it's for you too. And it runs deeper than you think. This _thing_ started before you found me in that sex club. Probably started before Budapest." Clint breathed in. "It's just as much about you as it is me." He reiterated. 

He finally chanced a glance at Natasha's face. She was surprised by his observations, but wasn't sure how right he was, even if a tiny voice in her head telling her that he was. This was something she was going to have to dissect and take apart on her own. 

She brought their hands up to her mouth and kissed his knuckles before stretching out alongside him. 

"I'm tired." She said softly. Clint nodded in resignation and nosed her hair, pressing a soft kiss on her temple. He was asleep within a few minutes.

Natasha couldn't sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all still like this thing!


	8. Hysteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha plays with Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the ever-awesome Tori :D

Natasha is good at undercover assignments and actually enjoys the majority of them. She likes slipping into skins and playing pretend, and more than that, extracting information from people whom she's fooled. Unfortunately, ever since going public with the Avengers, she's been virtually on undercover lock down, on the off chance that someone recognized her. However, there are occasionally times where SHIELD can't afford anyone but Natasha to go on a mission, and she gets to play chameleon again.

This was such a time, and Natasha had to go somewhere in the Middle East for four weeks, three days and sixteen hours. Not that anyone was counting, of course.

Natasha had texted Clint as soon as she had gotten home. She knew he was still at headquarters but she wanted to let him know that he could come to her place that night if he wanted to. She had surprised herself with how much she'd missed him, and was curious to see how much he'd missed her. She took a quick shower and thought about getting herself off, but decided against it as a plan was already forming in her mind. Not that she hadn't thought about what she would do when she got home; she was so horny after a month of playing servant to an idiot warlord with nothing but time to think about the things she'd do to Clint when she got him in her bed. That's if they even made the bed.

She padded out of the shower, and with only a towel around her body, started to put away all her things from her trip. When she was dry, she slipped on a thin summer dress and went into the kitchen to fix herself a bite to eat.

She was just putting her dish and silverware into the dishwasher when she heard a knock at the door.

"Come in!" She called out. She had left the door unlocked for him. Clint opened the door and walked in, shutting it behind him. He was still in his SHIELD uniform, though he had left his jacket in the car. He looked good; he had put on weight and it was obvious that he had been working out. His shirt was no longer baggy on him, his arms having regained the classic definition they had previously had. His hair was still a little shaggy, but it looked healthy and shiny, as stray strands fell over and into his eyes. His face had a glow to it that had been missing for months; his eyes were bright and focused and he had a slight tanned look to him that suggested he'd been outside, probably from running , was Natasha's guess.

Natasha simply stood in her kitchen, leaning against the counter as she shamelessly looked him over. Glancing at his face, she saw that he was smiling brightly at her. She returned the smile and then he was in her space, arms wrapping around her frame in a tight embrace. She chuckled and brought her arms around him as well, appreciating the way his muscles felt strong over his body. She felt him relax and breathe against her and she allowed herself to time her breaths with his, feeling like she'd finally come home.

"Hi." Clint breathed against her damp hair.

"Hi back." Natasha grinned. She felt him loosen his grip on her, and he was about to step back, had started to say, "How was your-" when she spun him around and pinned him to the counter she had just been leaning on.

"Trip?" Clint finished, suddenly interested in this turn of events. "Missed me?" He asked, smirking, and Natasha grinned predatorily at him, making his smirk falter.

Natasha leaned against him, and ran her hands up and down his arms. She licked her lips as she said, "I may have missed some things." She pressed her body against his, and moved slowly up until she was right in Clint's face, lips millimeters away from his. She saw the moment his eyes widened and his pupils dilated; his failing smirk was gone as his mouth opened slightly. She licked her lips again as she pointedly pressed herself against the quickly growing hard-on in his pants.

"Missed me?" Natasha raised an eyebrow as Clint groaned.

"I may have missed some things," Clint shot back, but it lost its snark when Natasha kissed him and he opened up for her. The kiss was dirty and hard and perfect. She ran her hands down his arms until she circled his wrists and tugged them behind him to rest on the counter. The implication was clear and he left his hands where she put them as she brought her hands to his front, snaking up his stomach and chest. She parted their kiss, and relished the lust in his eyes as he focused on her. Her fingers started to deftly unbutton his white shirt, and leaned over to suck a bruise on the newly exposed skin. As each button revealed new areas, she lowered her mouth to nip at the toned muscles on his chest and down his stomach. Clint groaned when she sucked a hard bruise right above his pant line.

Natasha smiled as she straighten up again. Clint sighed and murmured, "Definitely have missed some things." Natasha hummed happily as she let her hands drift towards his crotch and cup him, adding more pressure as Clint moaned louder.

"Hmmm, like what?" Natasha scraped her teeth on his chest and then licked the trail as she ground her heel into his erection. Clint gasped and jerked into it.

"S-st-stuff. You know, ah, um, everything, hng, y-you!" Natasha had slipped her hand under his pants and had taken hold of his cock. It was a tight fit, so she slowly unbuckled his belt and the top button of his pants, giving herself better access as she started to pump his dick lazily.

Natasha made a noise of contentment. "Is that all, sweetie?" She gave a sudden squeeze and Clint closed his eyes as his hips moved of their own accord while a strangled noise escaped from his throat.

"Because, you know, I've been thinking about you. A lot." She let go of his cock and removed her hand from his pants, smirking at the desperate whine he let out. She pushed against him again, while shoving her thigh between his legs. Clint groaned at the friction that gave him, and started to make short, aborted jerks against her leg.

"Hmm, seems like I'm not the only one that's been thinking about this." She shifted her leg back and forth to help Clint, and he let out a low groan, his movements becoming more prominent.

"That's it, baby. You must have been aching all this time. All alone here with no one to help you." Natasha knew that Clint had started to go out for drinks with Stark, of all people, when the billionaire had shown up unexpectedly at his house, exclaiming something about 'team bonding'. She was happy he was going out instead of being cooped up at home, waiting for her like a dog, but she was sure Stark wasn't 'helping' Clint like she was.

"You must have been thinking about the things I've done to you." She added more pressure, and ran her hands over his skin to pinch lightly at his nipples. "About all the things I'll still do to you." She leaned up to suck an earlobe into her mouth and gently nip at it. Clint was openly humping her leg now, and was close, if his breathy sighs were anything to go by. Clint's affirmation sounded like a high choke, and she could see his shoulders were bunching up from the tension of not moving his hands.

"You're such a good boy for me, aren't you?" She snaked a hand back down to the front of his pants, and gave him a better angle to thrust into. "Are you going to come, now?" Clint gave a high pitched whine. "You're going to come here and now, like a teenager?" Clint was crossed between looking at Natasha with blown eyes, and squeezing them shut as he felt the pressure building to be too much. He was rutting against her hand while her other hand played with his peaked nipples. His chest was heaving as he tried to steady himself, and failed miserably.

"What, got nothing to say?" Natasha teased lightly as she kissed him filthily. Clint moaned into her mouth and then she was off again. She trailed bites and kisses up his cheek to his ear again.

"Are you going to come for me? Can you even stop it? Are you going to come in your pants?" Natasha breathed and nipped hard on his ear. Clint thrust up against her once, twice, and then he was coming hard. He tensed and cried out her name as he felt a wet patch forming on his clothes.

Natasha grinned, and took a step back, completely removing herself from him. Clint immediately felt bereft from her touch, but didn't move from where he was. Clint hung his head as he tried to breath normally again, and then lifted his eyes to look at her.

Natasha looked positively gleeful at the mess she'd made. Clint was leaning most of his weight backwards onto the counter with his white shirt unbuttoned all the way and hanging off of one shoulder. His pants were undone and hanging low on his hips while a dark patch clearly marked his orgasm. Clint's hair was even messier now and his eyes were wild with lust; his mouth was ajar as little breaths came in and puffed out, and there were red marks all over his skin.

"God you're gorgeous." Natasha stated. Clint's mouth twitched upwards as Natasha surged forward to grip his bicep. "C'mon, I'm not even half done with you."

She grinned as she pulled Clint against her, pressing her body against his and kissing him hard. She then pushed him in the direction of her bedroom, keeping a hand on his arm that snaked down to fit into his hand when he stumbled. She let him find his balance again, and then she led him into the room, only letting go of his hand to push him down onto the bed. Clint bounced once, and then pushed himself further onto the mattress as Natasha followed him, stalking up his body like a panther until she was looming over him. She stilled there, simply looking at Clint's face, and drinking in the sight of his slightly puffy lips, the slight blush on his cheeks, and the light sheen of sweat starting to touch his hairline.

"Thought you were gonna do something more," Clint said, quirking his lips up. Natasha hummed and then sat up, straddling Clint's chest.

"You're awfully cheeky tonight. How about we put that mouth to better use?" Clint's smile was brilliant when Natasha pulled up her dress to reveal she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

She then maneuvered herself to hover over Clint's mouth, and held there. She heard Clint whine softly, and gasped when she felt his tongue lap at her clit. She lowered herself gently when his whine grew louder, and she moaned when he started licking at her expertly. She felt his hands come up to grab her ass to achieve better leverage, but she simply circled his wrists and brought them above his head. She leaned over to put her weight on his arms, and Clint groaned loudly at the combination of her pinning him down, and the new position of her cunt on his face. The new position did wonders for Natasha as well, and she gave a breathy moan when she felt his strong tongue dip inside her. Her hands gripped his wrists tighter when he licked a stripe through her to then suck hard at her clit. She felt a surge of wet heat at the pressure and sighed at the mental picture of what Clint's face must look like.

Natasha gave a squeak when Clint suddenly jerked his chin upwards and then gently used his teeth. Her nails dug into his skin in warning, but Clint paid no mind and did it again when she ground her pelvis in his face. Heat was flaring up low in her stomach, and she knew it wasn't going to take much more. Her breaths were coming out faster as Clint encouraged her to move against him, licking and sucking at everything he could between breaths while Natasha's thighs were twitching as she tried not to crush his head between them. She cried out as her orgasm took her by surprise when Clint used his teeth again. He kept at it, licking up everything while Natasha twitched and slowly brought her breathing back under control. When she pulled herself back up, she realized that her hands had slipped and their fingers had become interlocked.

She let go, and lifted herself off of Clint to sit cross-legged next to him. Her eyes met his dazed ones, and a belated surge of heat thrummed through her when she saw his face, wet with her come all over him. Her mouth went dry suddenly when she saw his tongue poke out and lick his lips. She bent over and kissed him hard, shoving her tongue inside to meet his unresisting one before tasting herself in his mouth. She brought a hand up to the back of his head and pulled his hair so that he was forced to tip his head up as she deepened the kiss.

They parted and she licked his lips before she broke away completely. She sat back on her heels, and then eyed the prominent bulge in his half-undone pants.

"Hmmm, seems like we're going to have to do something about that, won't we?" Natasha giggled to herself as Clint stared at her, lips parted slightly.

"Take everything off." Clint suddenly sprang to action; he shimmied out of his pants and kicked them off the bed while simultaneously shrugging off his shirt and throwing it off to the side. Natasha smiled fondly at his eagerness as she slipped off the bed and silently padded across the room.

When Clint was naked, he shifted so that he could prop his elbow up and track Natasha as she gracefully glided to the drawers on the wall. He could see her opening the drawer that held their toys, and couldn't help the shiver of anticipation as she pulled out a bottle of lube, leather cuffs and a ball gag. She also held two toys that they hadn't played with yet; one was a small clothed bundle of thin rods that Clint knew contained differently sized sounds, and the other was a bigger rod that could be extended, with cuffs at the end of each side. Natasha spun around in a elegant move, and bounded over to the bed, where she presented Clint with the toys. She raised an eyebrow, and Clint could only nod hurriedly as his cock throbbed at the implications.

Natasha grinned again, and set about putting everything together. She first picked up the gag and waited until Clint crawled over the bed to kneel in front of her. She kissed him long and deep, gently biting his tongue and then pulled back; Clint let his mouth open, somehow smirking at the same time, as Natasha pushed the gag between his teeth. As soon as she fastened the strap behind his head, Clint worked his jaw to get a better grip on the rubber ball, and when he was satisfied, he looked up at Natasha with excited eyes.

Natasha pushed on his chest so that he fell backwards, but he caught himself easily. She then motioned for Clint to get back in the same position as before, as she grabbed the lube and wrapped bundle and crawled onto the bed to sit herself in between his spread legs. She didn't want to bind him yet, due to this being the first time they played with sounds, so if he couldn't voice his protestations, she would at least give him the opportunity to make her stop physically.

She ran her hands up his thighs, and she could feel his energy vibrating under his skin. His cock stood hard and proud in front of her and her hand came up to give it a few strokes. She then grabbed the bundle, and untied the string that held it together; it unraveled like a scroll, and she selected the smallest of the rods. She felt Clint jerk involuntarily, so she rubbed a hand encouragingly on his thigh, while murmuring soft reassurances.

"You're doing well, Clint. I'm gonna make you feel good. You want that?" Clint had his eyes trained on her and was focused on keeping his breathing under control. He was both excited and slightly nervous but Natasha's soft hand on his skin was soothing, and he let her voice calm him. He nodded slowly as he finally registered what she had asked.

That was Natasha's sign to grab the bottle of lube and click it open. She poured a generous amount on the sound, making sure to slick it up well. She then grabbed his cock and added a small amount to the head, stroking him a few times to get him to relax. Clint breathed in sharply through his nose when he watched her bring the sound close to his cock.

"You're so good, baby, so good for me." Natasha purred, and Clint let a breath out. Natasha took the opportunity to lightly pinch the head of his cock and slowly start to slide in the metal rod. Clint groaned loudly at the feel and his hands bunched up into fists, but he brought them up above his head where they had been before. Natasha realized that was 'Clint-speak' for 'keep going', so she slid the sound in deeper before pulling it back up and then sliding it down again.

Clint was starting to pant now, but they were the good kind of sounds that made Natasha sure he was enjoying himself. She added some more lube, and then inch by inch, she made the sound go deeper, pulling it up and sliding it down until it was finally down as far as it could go. Clint moaned loudly when she slid it completely out, back in, and finally out. His eyes had slipped closed, but he opened them blearily in time to catch her slicking up another rod:- the next size up.

Clint twitched when she grabbed his cock again and started the same process of slowly entering the sound inside of him. Clint groaned loudly around the gag when he felt the rod go in as a deep as it could, and he shuddered at the weird stretch. She kept the sound in motion and it was making Clint harder by the minute. By the time Natasha had lubed up the third sound, Clint was continuously making low noises in his throat. As Natasha began to slide the sound into Clint, he made a needy sound, and one of his hands came down to grab a handful of her dress. Natasha paused for a moment, thinking it was too much for him, but then smiled and kept going when he made a high whine and lightly pushed his hips up, causing the sound to slide in more.

Natasha finally got the whole rod inside and was lazily fucking Clint with it, when Clint suddenly jerked, and moaned loudly while pulling on her dress. Natasha slid the rod out and took to stroking his cock, tightening her grip when she felt him twitch. Clint came in hard spurts over her hand while his wail was smothered by the gag.

By the time Clint came back to himself and cracked open his eyes, he realized that Natasha had gotten up and had buckled one of his wrists in a leather cuff and was in the middle of attaching it to the bedpost.

Natasha smiled down at him, and asked, "Good?"

Clint thought about the two amazing orgasms he had already had and the feeling of Natasha pressed against his face. He also thought about the way her fingers were deftly holding onto his wrist, making sure that the circulation wasn't being cut off as she secured him to the bed. He thought about the way his body was beginning to ache in a good way, and how his balls felt sore, but his dick was still hard. He thought about how 'good' didn't even begin to describe how great he was feeling right now, but he nodded sluggishly all the same.

Natasha gave him a peck on the cheek and sighed out, "good" while she moved to his other arm, cuffing his wrist and attaching it to the other side of the bed.

Despite having just come, Clint's cock twitched with interest when Natasha brushed her fingers past. Clint moaned at the sensitive feeling but canted his hips up into the touch nonetheless. He didn't even realize that she had rolled a condom onto him. Natasha chuckled and then suddenly she was over Clint again but this time she was slowly sinking onto his cock. Clint gave out a strangled hiss as her tight heat enveloped him. She sank until she was flush with his hips, and then ran her hands over his thighs and up his chest. Clint suddenly could breathe easier at the touch and realized he had been holding his breath. His hips jerked slightly, and then Natasha was off, starting up a pace that was setting Clint's nerves on fire. His hands were fighting against their bonds, and that only made him groan louder as Natasha picked up a harder pace, fucking him and making his skin tingle.

He only then registered that Natasha was saying something, "Ah, you feel so good, baby. Gonna make me come again?" Clint moaned throatily at that and became more active in their exercise, thrusting upwards as she came down. They set up a hard long pace like that,and Clint was slowly going out of his mind with lust. Every time Natasha snapped her hips down, he saw stars dancing behind his eyes. He didn't know if he could come again but was completely focused on working to get Natasha to come when his orgasm unexpectedly rushed into him, knocking his world off balance.

He couldn't breathe for a moment, and his body felt too tight and small as he tensed and pulled on the cuffs. He could feel his body twisting, and then he felt Natasha squeeze hard around him, adding blinding pressure and heat to his barrage of over-stimulating sensations. Clint was light headed and he could barely see straight when suddenly he was breathing in deep, fresh gulps of air. His breathing was ragged but present and it took him longer than he would have like to figure out the reason;Natasha had unbuckled his gag. She was now running her hands over his chest, murmuring soothing praises into his skin. He wasn't in her anymore, and he wasn't wearing the condom anymore. When had she taken that off? Clint closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get the world back on its axis when he abruptly startled and looked around blindly for Natasha.

Natasha felt him spook and was trying to get him to focus on her, getting close to his face and saying his name while trying to calm him. Clint finally settled when he caught her gaze; he looked ashamed and scared and Natasha couldn't hear him when he whispered something to her.

"Clint? What's wrong? What happened?" Natasha caressed his head gently, as Clint repeated what he said, louder.

"Did you come?" Clint's eyes were wide and his expression worried. Natasha let out a sigh of relief, and kissed him gently, murmuring, "Yes, baby, I did. I came. You did so well, Clint, you were so good for me."

Clint's whole body sagged in release at her reassurance, and he calmed under her soft words and light touches. Clint tucked his head against Natasha's, realizing that she was lying down beside him, and pressing against his frame. He sighed at the feeling and smiled tiredly.

"I had one more thing planned, but we can do that another day, if you'd like? Are you done?" Natasha asked softly and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

Clint's heart warmed at the care in her voice and tried to think. He was so tired, but he felt so good. He didn't want to stop yet, so he said so, slurring out, "Yeah, le's do your thing."

Natasha gave him another kiss and then got up, shuffling around the bed until she grabbed the longer rod she'd brought earlier and settled between his legs again. She ran her hands up and down his thighs again, but this time she let her hand run all the way down his legs. She slowly positioned his right ankle to cuff him to the rod. When that was secure, she extended the rod a bit and pushed and maneuvered Clint until his legs spread out on either side of the bar. She fastened the cuff to his other ankle and then slowly extended the rod to its full capacity. Clint groaned at the stretch and vulnerable position the spreader bar left him in.

"Such a good boy for me." The praise melted Clint into a puddle, and he watched Natasha with hooded eyes as she picked up the bottle of lube again and spread some out on her fingers. He felt it as her fingers rubbed along his rim, and he let out a sigh as she slipped in a finger. She slowly let him adjust to it before moving and adding another finger. Clint grunted at the sudden fullness, but relaxed when her fingers moved purposefully in him. His cock was unbelievably half-hard, but he knew he couldn't come again; even so, it still felt good. It felt even better when her fingers parted and scissored in him, stretching him well.

It wasn't until she curled her fingers and found his prostate that Clint gasped at the over-stimulation. Clint turned his head to the side and into the pillow to bite back a loud groan as she rubbed the same spot again, his mind getting confused with the mixture of pain and pleasure nerve firings. His hands were balled into fists again and when she stroked him hard and purposefully, Clint gave a desperate cry and tried to close his legs against the sensations, only to be cruelly stopped short by the bar. Natasha didn't let up and kept dragging her fingers over and over the same spot; Clint started whimpering loudly as he tried fruitlessly to close his legs in an attempt to ward her off.

"You're going to come again for me, baby." Natasha stated, so mater-of-fact.

Clint cried out on a particular hard stroke and whimpered out, "I, I can't come any more!"

He started thrashing his head from side to side, trying to escape his own body.

Natasha curled her fingers and pressed against his prostate and paused there. Clint gasped in breaths and shuddered when he heard Natasha say lowly and commandingly, "You can, and you will."

Clint cried out desperately as she resumed her ministrations even harder and faster, fucking him with her fingers and jabbing him directly on his prostate. Natasha's other hand came to rest low on his abdomen, right above his hard cock, and pressed down at the same time as she cruelly curled her fingers up.

"Come."

Clint wailed and cried as his body convulsed violently. His arms strained in their cuffs and he could barely breathe as his cock twitched uselessly, coming completely dry. Natasha kept rubbing harshly against his prostate and Clint screamed as his cock kept trying to give, but couldn't because he was empty.

The next time Clint was aware of his surroundings, he felt Natasha along his side, running her fingers up and down his arm and chest. Clint realized that the spreader bar and cuffs were gone, so he turned towards Natasha and brought his legs up to his chest, curling in on himself. He felt her arms move protectively around him, and he snuggled up against her chest while a hand found itself gripping the front of her dress.

"You're perfect, Clint, just perfect. You're so good for me."

Clint let her praises wash over him as he drifted back and forth between consciousness. He loved this feeling, of being completely safe while he was wrung out and vulnerable. He didn't know how to show his gratitude towards Natasha but he thought she maybe seemed to get it, as she wiped away stray tears from his cheek and dropped light kisses on his forehead while encouraging him to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :)


	9. Assasin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha helps Clint to rediscover himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!  
> I am so sorry for the loooong hiatus. But good news! The whole story is done! That means you'll get weekly updates until it's finished, yay! :D Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Beta'd by the ever-loving Tori!

It had been a weird week.

Stark had somehow convinced Fury to let Natasha and Clint move into the newly reconstructed tower (which now sported a great big 'A' rather than the billionaire's surname), citing that it would 'help boost team spirit', or something along those lines. Stark had already convinced Banner and Rogers into staying at the tower while they were in New York, so it only seemed right to have both of the assassins move in as well.

Clint had agreed immediately, and had taken only a few hours to pack up everything he owned and move it into his room at the tower, (which had been modified a bit to accommodate the archer). He had given the keys to his apartment back to Fury as soon as he had unpacked everything.

Natasha had taken a little longer to agree, and it wasn't until Stark paid off Fury for the apartment, and told Natasha that she could keep her apartment forever if she'd like, that she finally relented and moved some of her stuff into the tower. Natasha couldn't say why she wanted the small and unimpressive apartment, but everyone just assumed it was because she wanted her own place to retreat to should she need it. In reality, Natasha though it might have had to do more with recent memories there than anything else.

So that's how they found themselves living in 'Avengers Tower', having breakfast with superheroes, meeting a disembodied, but quite helpful AI, and figuring out where they belonged on this team. Stark had surprisingly been pretty good about making everyone feel comfortable, and Rogers was the perfect balance to Stark's crazier side. It shouldn't have worked, but it did.

Natasha got along great with Bruce, after talking and having had tea with him one afternoon. She knew it was going to take a while to completely trust him, but she found the unassuming man likable.

She noticed several common traits among these different people, and self-deprecation was definitely something they all shared. Even Stark, underneath all his bravado. Natasha noticed everything, and she filed it all away, every little facial expression, body movement or off-hand comment.

Clint was getting on great with the others, which surprised Natasha more than anything. She wasn't jealous, and if anything, she was happy for Clint to have found people he liked. As far as she knew, only Coulson and herself had been his friends back at SHIELD, and now that Coulson was dead, she was proud of Clint for making new friends. Even if they did all pull stupid pranks on each other that had her rolling her eyes.

Despite the pranks and hesitant new found friendships, there was still tension between them all as they tried to gauge each others personalities. This amused Natasha beyond belief, especially when she subtly reinforced their preconceived notions about her. She had Stark in fear of her and Steve wrapped around her finger. Bruce was the only one that seemed to understand her game, but even sometimes he was taken aback. And Clint, of course knew her better than that, and played along with her games.

It wasn't until after the first week, though, that one of her "games" almost made Clint choke on his drink.

They had just finished eating dinner and were picking out a movie to watch; Natasha was curled up at the end of the couch with Clint sitting next to her, body pressed up against her. Stark had been talking about a mile a minute while Steve politely nodded and Bruce ignored him, comfortable in his seat- when Stark rounded on the pair of assassins.

"So." Stark stated.

Natasha only rose an eyebrow at him and saw his resolve wither slightly, but not enough. Clint was kinder.

"What's up?" Clint asked lightly bringing his can of soda up to his lips.

"Soooo…" Stark drew out the vowel. He seemed to hesitate and then the words came tumbling out of his mouth, "You two boning each other or something? Because you totally look like you know what the other likes in bed."

He grinned unashamedly as Steve blushed hard, and tried to rectify what he thought was a major taboo, "Tony… you can't just ask people things like that." Tony just ignored him and looked pointedly at Clint because Natasha's glare scared him a little.

Clint just smirked but he stayed silent, taking a gulp of his drink. Natasha then deadpanned, "I like to tie Clint up and make him beg while I control him mercilessly."

Clint spluttered liquid all over himself; Tony's mouth dropped open; Steve blushed harder; and Bruce dropped the book that was in his hand. Natasha looked calm and collected while she took in each of their reactions and smirked at Stark.

Then Tony laughed, real laughter that started in his stomach and made him bend over. Steve started laughing nervously and then it morphed into loud laughter when he saw Natasha smiling genuinely. Bruce had a look of confusion on his face but it smoothed out into quiet chuckles.

Clint looked at Natasha then for a moment, trying to figure out what happened, and then his mouth split into a grin. This was Natasha's way of getting everyone off their backs. He knew that the two of them spent a lot of time in each others rooms and company, and the other Avengers were bound to notice. By telling the real truth, however, the others simply didn't believe it to be true, and sure enough, Stark dropped it and turned his attention to choosing movie, hysterical giggles bursting out occasionally. Clint could have kissed her for letting their private lives stay private.

Tony started talking again, proclaiming about all the movies that he needs to educate Steve with, and Bruce gently picked up his book from the floor, mildly nodding along with Tony. Clint's hand found Natasha's thigh and squeezed it once, before getting up and muttering about having to change his shirt. Natasha smiled back at him and winked, making Clint grin widely.

By the time he came back, new shirt and damp arms from cleaning all the stickiness off, Tony had settled on "educating" Steve with Star Wars first. As soon as Clint sat down, the movie began.

And it was good.

Natasha was snuggled up more to Clint than the couch, and Tony had taken a seat on the other side of Clint, close to Steve who was in the armchair next to the couch, so that he could stage-whisper commentary throughout the movie. Bruce was on the other side of Natasha in his respective armchair, and was occasionally glancing up from his book to smile at Steve's reactions to the movie.

It all felt comfortable and domestic. Really, it felt like home.

It had been a weird week.

But it had been good.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~

"Why not?" Natasha asked, eyes focused on Clint's as she was sprawled over him. They were in Natasha's room, most of their clothes off, lying on her bed and were content to just be in each others' space.

Clint looked away from her and mumbled, "I dunno, just 'cause." His hand was trailing up and down her arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Natasha ignored them and reached up to gently turn his face so that he was looking at her, noting how his face was guarded.

"Why not?" Natasha repeated, expression gentle but determined to not be lied to.

Clint closed his eyes and whispered softly, "You know why." He sucked in a breath and let it out raggedly, wincing as memories hit him.

Natasha's hand was still on his face, but now she was just stroking his cheek and smoothing out the wrinkles around his eyes. He relaxed a bit, but still kept his eyes closed.

"It wasn't your fault, Clint." She spoke softly and full of tenderness.

Clint huffed a bitter laugh and gritted out, "Yeah, I keep hearing that." They've had this conversation a few times already, but Clint just kept closing down on her every time. Tonight, however, he was talking more, so Natasha counted that as a win.

"I killed a lot of people, Nat." She opened her mouth to counter him, but he kept going, "I know you say that it wasn't my fault, that it was, _him_ , that I was mind controlled, but it was still me. It was still my arrows that hit their mark, and took lives. My skill that killed them." His voice cracked slightly on the last word. Finally he opened his eyes and looked at her, expression hard. "Forgive me if it's been a bit hard to get back into that particular saddle."

Natasha's heart clenched. Clint hadn't touched his bow since New York, and she knew why. He feared that he would lose himself again, that somehow he'd go off on a rampage and kill people again. Natasha occasionally felt bad that she was pushing him so hard to get on the range again, but she knew he'd never forgive himself if he was called to action and he failed.

She slowly lifted herself up, her legs on either side of his hips until she was kneeling above him. Clint watched her with mild curiosity. She pushed at his side until he got the hint and he rolled over onto his stomach. Natasha sat down lightly on his ass, and ran her hands up his bare back. She could feel the tense muscles under her palms, as she gently raked her nails down either side of his spine, earning a heavy sigh from Clint. She began to massage his back, starting at the top of his neck, and methodically moving down as each section grew soft and pliant. Soft moans were pushed out of his lungs, and occasional groans were uttered when she'd find hard knots and dig into them.

She felt as the tension bled away while his breathing evened out and slowed. She shifted, and worked his lower back, working out all the kinks, before moving on to his ass, kneading the flesh there and making Clint flinch occasionally with sensitivity. She stayed silent the whole time, letting Clint enjoy the relief. She then turned her touches to soft fluttering as her fingers ghosted up and down his skin, raising goose bumps and involuntary shudders. When she could feel it starting to be too much for Clint, she smoothed her hands out, flat against him, and rubbed everywhere, as though erasing her earlier touches.

She then paused, hands splayed on his shoulder blades, and asked softly, "Please?"

Clint sighed deeply, and sort of hunched in on himself, face into the pillow. He breathed in again, and on the outtake, he nodded slightly.

Natasha nudged him to roll onto his back again, and then lowered herself to lie down on top of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his hair. Clint's arms came up to wrap themselves around her waist and back, and he pulled her down tightly, fitting his face into the crook of her neck, and feeling her hair trickle across his face. He shuddered when he heard her murmur, "Thank you."

 ~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~

The next day, the pair of them met at SHIELD's shooting range. It was the weekend, so they didn't run into anyone on the way there, and the range was empty. When Natasha saw Clint, she immediately knew this was going to be a long day; Clint was wearing a simple t-shirt, nicely showing off his arms, but he was more tense than a drawn bow string. His equipment was still in its cargo case, on a table next to his usual shooting stall. He was pacing back and forth, and barely slowed down when he saw Natasha. She approached him slowly, and as soon as she touched him, he broke.

"I can't do this, I can't do it Natasha, I'm sorry. I'm fucking everything up, like I always do, and I can't, fucking, I'm sorry, I can't do,-" Clint was silenced abruptly when Natasha hugged him. It was a simple hug, but Clint gasped as though he'd just finally broken the surface and could breathe again. His arms automatically found themselves wrapping around her body tightly, as he rested his head against her shoulder. His breathing was still ragged, but she didn't let go until he had calmed down enough to match her even breaths. 

They stood together like that for several long minutes and eventually Clint relaxed his grip and nodded against her. Natasha let him go, and watched as he turned towards the table. He slowly unlatched the buckles of the case, and she saw him breathe out heavily when he opened it. His movements were measured as he first grabbed his arm guard and wrapped it around his forearm, taking the time to make sure the straps were in place. He then picked up his quiver and started filling it up with arrows. When he slung it over his shoulder and back, he paused with his hands on the table on either side of the case. He was leaning his weight against them as he stared down at his bow, still in the case. After a sharp intake of air, he steeled himself and picked it up, letting it lock into place.

Without looking at Natasha, he shifted into position in his stall and raised his bow while notching an arrow in the same movement. With a breath, he drew the arrow back until he was touching his cheek. He stared down the range towards the simple black and white target.

He breathed out.

And froze.

He shook his head slightly, trying to relax. He breathed in again. A single drop of sweat trailed down his temple.

He breathed out.

Still, he couldn't let go.

With a frustrated yell, he relaxed the bow and his arms dropped to his sides. He stared at the target, and he felt like it was mocking him. Then he felt soft hands caressing his arms, chasing away slight tremors that he hadn't noticed were there. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, letting her hands relax him; she was murmuring encouragements behind him, and he let it lull him as he focused on his breathing. It wasn't until he felt her hands come up to his face to pass something soft over his eyes that he snapped back into awareness. He tensed, but he allowed Natasha to continue to tie a blindfold over his eyes. An involuntary whimper escaped him when she took a step back.

"I won't leave you." She said. Clint breathed out and forced his muscles to relax. He found it easier than he thought, and tried to let himself fall back into that peaceful moment. He startled when he felt her hands on him again but this time heat pooled in his belly when those hands found themselves snaking around his hips to gently knead his rapidly growing erection. He let out a shudder when he felt her press her lips right between his shoulder-blades.

"Shoot." Her voice was steady and grounding, and Clint felt renewed. He felt her hands pause as he lifted the bow again and drew the arrow back in one breath.

He breathed out.

He let go.

The arrow made a soft thud as it hit its mark, and Clint knew it was buried into the little black dot of the target. He felt Natasha's hands move again, giving him delicious pressure with one hand while the other slowly unbuckled his belt.

"Ten." Her voice was slightly muffled as her lips found the exposed skin at the nape of his neck. Clint cocked his head in confusion at first but when she didn’t elaborate, he figured she was playing a game. He could do that.

He drew another arrow and knocked it. He felt her grip him through his pants and then still. He drew the arrow, breathed out, and sent it flying. He felt a twinge of satisfaction when he heard it connect with the target.

Natasha started squeezing and moving again as he heard her say, "Nine."

Clint suddenly knew what the game was.

It was a countdown.

And by the way her clever hands were making him harder than he'd been in a while, he had a feeling he was going to like it when he reached zero.

He knew Natasha knew it when he figured it out, and she gave him a playful squeeze on his ass for his deductions. He was quick to draw and notch the third arrow, and when he let it go, and heard "Eight," he was rewarded with her hands pulling down his jeans and underwear, effectively freeing his hard cock. It sprung up against his stomach, and he let out a small pant when she took him in hand, stroking slowly over the heated skin.

He was liking this game very much.

He went through the process again and again, hearing "Seven" and "Six" as the numbers went straight to his dick, which was already leaking precome. Her clever hands were working him over and he was starting to lose a bit of focus. He shook his head and pushed himself through it while he readied another arrow. When that one found its mark and he heard the beautiful "Five" he felt her drop and move around so she was kneeling in front of him. He dropped his head down as he felt her open mouth take him in. Clint couldn't help the loud groan that reverberated through his throat when he felt the impossible heat around his cock. She hadn't even done anything but his breathing had picked up again in arousal. He felt his cock jump in her mouth and he started to lower his bow. Natasha noticed and pinched his thigh; he knew he had to finish the game.

She stilled while he got the next arrow, and only when it made its noise hitting the target did she begin to use her mouth. She placed her hand on his stomach, fingers splayed out except for her thumb, and he knew it was her saying "Four."

On the next arrow, she didn't stop her ministrations, and as he drew the arrow back and held it, she gave a particular twist and stroke of her tongue on the underside of his cock and he lost his focus completely for a minute. He didn't even realize he had let go of the arrow until she suddenly let him drop out of her mouth. He whined at the loss and tried to think about what just happened. Natasha stayed silent, however, and it was then that Clint realized he had missed the target completely. Not just the bull's-eye, the whole thing.

He hadn't missed so badly since he was in the circus.

A moment of panic flared up, as he remembered what the usual punishments for missing were, but he tapered them down and reminded himself that he wasn't there. That Natasha was the one who made him miss. That they were playing a game. That he had to keep his focus.

He steadied himself and took a few deep breaths to get himself under control. He could feel Natasha watching him as he drew another arrow. He really focused on his task and the world started to drift away.  He could feel the metal of the arrow as he nocked it in place; the familiar weight of the bow in his hand; the way the pads of his fingers curled around the string; the way his muscles all worked together to draw the string; the way his shoulder ached pleasantly at the strain; the feel of the cool metal against his cheek; and his own body's reactions to his intake of oxygen and his deprivation of air. He could see the target clearly in his mind, aimed at it, adjusted for gravity, and let his fingers open. He could see it in his mind's eye in slow motion, the way the arrow slid through the air only to find itself being stopped brutally short by a tiny little black dot several meters away. And Clint could feel the calm and satisfaction that shooting always brought him.  


Distantly, he heard someone say, "Three."

Suddenly the world rushed back to him at the same time that Natasha took him in her mouth again. It was jarring, the palpable difference between what had just happened in the span of mere seconds and this new explosion of sensation, and Clint only moaned in pleasure. He gave a dry chuckle at her renewed enthusiasm, and he drew another arrow.

He could feel himself getting close to the edge, but he was able to  put it aside for a moment. He wasn't going to come until he finished their game, he knew that. With a satisfying _snick_ of the arrow against the target, he grabbed the last arrow and nocked it. Natasha was kneading his ass towards her face while she started deepthroating him, swallowing occasionally and on every pull back, she'd swirl her tongue around the head of his cock. He was ready to explode, but _not yet._

He had this. He knew it even before he let the arrow go, that it had hit its target. And as soon as he heard the tell-tale noise of it finding its home, Natasha swallowed around him once, twice, and he was gone, coming down her throat with a grunt.

She let him ride out the last of his orgasm, licking him clean and swallowing, before letting him slip out of her mouth. She stood up slowly and trailed her hands up his body until they found themselves untying the blindfold. She let it fall between them as he lowered his head to kiss her deeply, with emotion. She felt him pull her against his body, and she melted under his touch.

Finally, they parted, and he looked into her eyes.

"Thank you." He whispered.

She couldn't help the slight shudder in her body and she let herself be pulled into his embrace again.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~

 Natasha was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea and reading a book when the sound of a door opening made her look up. Clint strode into the kitchen, stopping at the island counter topick up an apple;tossing it in the air a few times before taking a bite out of it, all the while sneaking glances at her. Natasha saw how he had a bounce in his step and noticed the crinkles around his eyes, and immediately knew why he was so happy.

She carefully placed her bookmark between the pages that she had been reading and leaned back in her chair. "So, you did it." It was a statement rather than a question, and Clint's answering smile was enough of an affirmation.

He waited to swallow before speaking. "I passed, flying colors. Psych said my evaluations were excellent." He paused, then his grin spread across his face, "I can return to active duty."

Natasha felt her face break into a huge smile and a wave of relief passed over her. She got up from her chair and walked over to Clint to wrap her arms around him.

"I am _so_ proud of you, Clint. You've done so well." Natasha breathed against him as he hugged her back fiercely.

"It's all because of you." He murmured, and she could still hear the smile in his voice. She felt her cheeks heat up slightly and her eyes filled, despite her trying to will them away. She opened her mouth to negate his statement but he just tightened his grip on her until she was left breathless: unable to speak. She got the hint, and stayed silent but shook her head slightly. She took a few deep breaths to get rid of the sudden deluge of emotions, before she pushed away from him.

"Well then." she started, proud that her voice failed to waver. "In that case, we're going to have to do something about this." Her hand reached out to brush his errant bangs out of his face. Clint chuckled, but nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I supposed so." He laughed again. Natasha grabbed his hand and tugged him to one of the bar-stools around the counter, motioning him to sit on one. As he settled himself, she walked around to open a drawer, but closed it again, opening another drawer. Clint laughed when he heard her mutter "dammit" under her breath as she tried another drawer. Finally, she found the scissors she had been looking for and walked back to Clint.

"Damn Stark keeps moving things around." Clint just smiled at her, and her face softened.

She lifted herself up onto the counter, and scooted over until Clint was in between her legs. She pushed him with her leg, and he spun around so she had access to the back of his head. She ran her fingers through the long hair, letting the strands catch and sift. Clint groaned softly and leaned his head back until he was resting against her, closing his eyes. She bent over quickly and gave him a peck on his lips which made him quirk his lips up.

"Are you ready?" Natasha asked. The question hung in the air between them, letting them feel the gravity of what it really meant. And it meant so much more than its deceptive surface.

Clint straightened up and pushed his back against her.

"Ready." His voice was strong and determined, leaving no room for doubt.

Natasha smiled warmly and picked up the scissors in one hand, and a strand of hair in the other.

The snip of scissors cutting through the hair was loud in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, I guess that was kind of a mean cliffhanger.... :D
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	10. Panic Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha helps Clint deal with a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Another update!
> 
> I love my beta Tori. That is all.

It was good.

The Avengers were good.

They were a team, and they worked well together. They knew how to play each other's strengths; how to coordinate around personalities; speak up with new or better ideas; or quiet down when needed.

Soon after Clint got reinstated, a small group of overzealous biology grad students decided to try to remake Jurassic Park and create these creatures that wreaked havoc in downtown Manhattan:  so the Avengers were called. It wasn't as hard as an army of Chitauri, but it still required some level of action and focus from the team.

But they were good. They subdued the dinosaur-type-creatures and rounded up the grad students and no one died. Though, there was a bit of property damage done to a few building; street signs; cafes; and a dog park.

After that came a couple of bio-terrorists; a telekinetic mutant going through a bad breakup; a team up with the Fantastic Four to defeat Dr. Doom and his extremely annoying doom bots; some neo-Nazi;, hydra-loving fanatics trying to kill Captain America; and a tentacle-monster that decided water parks were his home.  

After each successful win, the Avengers fell into a tradition of eating like mad at some diner or fast food joint. They would joke or comment about things that happened in during battle; like the one time Iron Man got hung upside down, powerless by a slimy tentacle until Cap had to come and cut him down; or when the Hulk played baseball with some doom bots; or how eerily similar-looking Captain America and Johnny Storm were; or how Clint never missed his target while Natasha was the "sneakiest bad-ass mother-fucker I've ever seen," according to Tony.

Thor had come back a few weeks ago, after saving the universe, or something like that. He was a welcome addition to the group, and got along quickly with everyone. It was kind of impossible not to get along with the god of thunder.

They were good. They became closer with each new obstacle, and began to really trust each other and their instincts, as well as having fun getting to know each of them. Bruce and Tony hit it off immediately and did their science thing, where they'd babble to each other about god-knows-what, while Steve surprised everyone with his amazing sketches. Clint became the unofficial cook of the team: while Tony was banned from entering the kitchen, let alone using it. Natasha became Steve's favorite sparring partner, and Bruce enjoyed spending quite time reading, while Clint was on the range. And Thor was Thor. They all had their little quirks, and they learned how to work around each other to create a peaceful atmosphere. Well, at least as peaceful as it could get when living with superheroes.

So it really shouldn't have come to a surprise to Natasha when their little bubble was punctured after a rough mission.

They were tired. It had been a SHIELD mission in some South American country - just Steve, Clint and Natasha - and they had been running around trying to simultaneously stop a drug ring; avoid a coup d'état; and collect advance weaponry that had an alien feel to them. They all had scrapes and burns, Clint worst of all with a sprained ankle and burns covering half his torso, but they had made it. They lightly dosed on the plane ride home, and were ordered to give a briefing before they were allowed to go home. 

Clint tried to stay awake through the briefing, but he'd jolt to awareness whenever Natasha kicked him under the table (mindful of his bad leg). She felt a little bad because he really didn't have anything else to contribute to the briefing after going through his side of events: but she also didn't feel like dragging his sleeping ass back to the tower later. Steve was just finishing up his debrief on what could have been improved and how they could do differently in the future, when Natasha got a weird feeling.

She sat up, alert, and looked around. Nothing had changed;  Steve was still talking, and Fury was sitting quietly at the other side of the table, occasionally taking notes. Clint noticed her sudden attention, and arched an eyebrow at her. Natasha looked around one more time, and then tried to shake off the feeling to some freak aftereffect of the adrenaline rush. She gave Clint a look that made him relax against his chair and start slightly dosing off again.  


Five minutes later, Steve tied up the mission report and started getting up, shaking Fury's hand. Natasha softly punched Clint's arm - so he'd wake up - and then gathered up her papers into folders to write up later in the report. She took pity on Clint and gathered his up as well, and was ready to go by the time Clint finally got out of his chair. They were just about to reach the door, when it suddenly opened.

Natasha glanced up and then stopped in her tracks. Clint, who hadn't been paying attention, ran right into her back.

"Wha' the hell, Nat?" Clint grumbled as he took a step back. When Natasha didn't move or reply, he lifted his head up to see what the fuss was and looked at the scene before him. He snapped into awareness like a rubber band breaking.

Natasha was frozen as she stared at who was at the door. Steve was on the other side and was just as still as he stared intently at the man at the door.

As soon as Clint realized who it was, a strangled noise got stuck in his throat.

Phil Coulson was standing in the threshold, hand on the doorknob, mouth slightly ajar from the sentence he'd been in the middle of speaking to the female agent behind him.

Coulson was the first to recover and he relaxed his body, taking the last step to be fully inside the room. Natasha felt Clint take a step back, and she knew it was unconscious.

"Well, I guess you guys are finding out sooner than expected." Fury's voice sounded loud behind them, and Clint flinched.

Natasha breathed in heavily, and repeated, "Sooner than expected? You mean to say that we weren't supposed to know until a future date?" She stared at Coulson the entire time, and at least he had the decency to blush slightly as her voice grew angrier. Steve looked back and forth between Coulson and Natasha, looking like a fish out of water.

Natasha felt Clint backing up another step, and felt the tension rising in him. This was going to be bad.

Finally Coulson cleared his throat, exactly like she remembered it, and spoke, "Hi Natasha. Clint." At Clint's name, he froze.

Natasha could feel all the work they'd been doing together slipping away, and that just made her angrier at the man in front of her. "Where the fuck have you been?" She spat out.

Coulson cringed slightly, but stayed where he was. "They took me to Tahiti to heal. It's a magical place." That sounded…wrong. Natasha hated it. But she didn't have time to think about it, because  Clint decided he'd had enough, and ran to the other side of the room. He leapt onto the table, and jumped up, pushing aside a ceiling vent and lifting himself up in a single motion. The next second he was gone, not a sound indicating which direction he went in.

"Dammit." Fury breathed. "That could've gone better."

Coulson looked hurt, but Natasha didn't pity him in that instance. She walked up to him pointedly, and then slapped him across the face. Coulson didn't move to avoid it, and his head turned with the force. When he straightened his head to look at Natasha, he saw anger, surprise and hurt written on her normally expressionless face. Natasha expected to hit him again, but she surprised herself by bringing both her arms up to wrap around his shoulders and neck in a tight embrace. Coulson was taken aback, but slowly returned the hug, gingerly.

Natasha stepped back then, and Coulson let her, wary that he was going to get hit again. Natasha simply stared at him and said coldly, "You fucked up big this time. Fix it." She knew he knew what she was talking about, and it was confirmed when Coulson nodded tersely. Natasha stepped back, looked at Steve and told him she'd be staying at SHIELD headquarters that night. Steve nodded numbly, and turned to leave. He stopped for a minute, looked at Coulson, and said sullenly, "Good to have you back, Sir."

With a nod from Coulson, Steve walked out the door. Natasha followed after him, nodding to the agent behind Coulson, and acknowledging her, "May." The woman nodded back silently, and Natasha left the room.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~

Her feet took her to the one place she knew Clint would be: the range.

As expected the doors were all locked, and she didn't pay any mind to the younger recruit's awe when she hacked the key pad and vanished inside, closing the door behind her. Clint wanted a semblance of privacy, so she'd indulge him for now.

She could hear the _snick_ of arrows being shot, but they didn't sound right when they landed on their target. It wasn't until she rounded to corner and saw down the range that it was because none of the arrows had found their mark. Not a single one. She spotted Clint, and took in his form: he was the tensest she had ever seen him, with a combination of anger and hurt etched along his frame. He had about a dozen arrows littered on the ground around his feet, but he paid them no mind, simply grabbing another arrow from the half-full quiver on his back. He had three empty quivers laying several feet in front of him on the range, where Natasha got the impression they had been thrown when they had run out of arrows. Another pair of full quivers were on a table nearby.

Clint ignored Natasha and fired off another six arrows, each one missing the target completely. There were arrows down the range, anywhere from a few yards to stuck in the ceiling or on the next stall over's target. There were three arrows sticking out of a shattered fluorescent light casing and the wires were now hanging precariously from it.

 Another four arrows were let go: one right after another.

"Clint," She began, softly.

Another arrow. This one hit the concrete behind the target.

"Two years." Clint's voice was steel, cold and unwavering. He let loose another arrow, this one burying itself in the wall's plaster behind the concrete.

"Two fucking years he let us believe he was d-," His voice cracked as another arrow was loosed but only going a few yards before skidding on the ground. Natasha internally cursed Coulson for the state Clint was in now. They had been working together for years before Natasha ever even stepped foot in SHIELD. They had always had a special bond that went beyond asset and handler. And all that had been torn apart by the handler's death.

"Clint, put it down." Natasha took a tentative step towards him. He ignored her and loosed another arrow barely after notching it. Natasha didn't see where it landed, but heard it make its home far away.

"I mean, I get not wanting to tell the world he's alive… But us?" His voice rose in pitch, and Natasha heard him choke back a dry sob. He notched another arrow and this one actually landed on the right target, in the outer white ring. Natasha had never before seen him miss this badly: never before seen him lose his calm in this manner. It honestly kind of scared her.

"Clint, stop." She looked at his hands and saw they were shaking badly: and that he wasn't wearing his arm guards. Normally, he could go without them, but now she saw that his arm was bleeding with cuts and gashes that the bow had left behind. His drawing fingers were also red with blood, but whether from new cuts or from the arm, she couldn't tell.

Clint nocked another arrow and drew it, but didn't let go. Natasha took another step, so that she was within reaching distance. She saw his arms straining and shaking under the pressure of holding the arrow back. She took the final step so she was behind him and lightly touched a hand to his straining shoulder.

Clint crumpled.

His whole body relaxed as if someone had cut his strings, and he dropped the bow and arrow on the floor. His shoulder hunched in on himself and his knees buckled under him, making him sway dangerously. Natasha caught him in time and gently controlled his fall, letting him fold easily on the ground. His frame went limp against her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and chest, sitting behind him. She maneuvered them so that he was cradled in the space between her legs.

His hands were folded up in his lap, and he let his head drop back as she carded her fingers through his short hair. She saw tear tracks on his face, so she brushed her fingers across his cheeks, wiping them away. He turned his head into her touch and let out a shaky breath.

"Please, Natasha, help me." His voice was small, tight and completely vulnerable. Natasha held him tighter, bringing one hand around to link it with his limp hands. "Please; I don't-; I can't-; just don't know what I should do; just, please; help me?"

Natasha squeezed his hands, "How?"

Clint breathed in sharply, "I dunno, one of our 'sessions'? You've always been there. Jus', please, I don't wanna feel like…, I can't think about…, Nat, please." Natasha cut him off with soft shushing. She gently rocked him from side to side, slowly, and he quieted down.

"I don't think that's going to help this time, Clint." Clint opened his mouth to counter her, but she just squeezed him tighter in warning. "I mean it. This isn't something that's going to go away with something like that."

"Then what do I do?" he rushed it out before she could stop him.

Natasha thought it over. The idea was so blindingly in front of them, yet so terrifying to achieve.

"You have to talk to him, Clint." She heard his whine of protest forming in his throat, but she kept going, "There's no other way. You will never be happy if you don't reconcile with him, and that's not going to happen if you don't hear him out or give him a chance."

Clint didn't reply. But he didn't try to change her mind, so she knew that he was trying to come up with any other way out of this and failing. They stayed like that, awkwardly sitting/spooning on the floor, with arrows all around them for several long minutes. They didn't say anything, and just listened to and felt the other breathe.

Eventually Clint disentangled himself from her web of limbs, and he pushed himself up. He bent down to start picking up the arrows, but her soft hand stopped him.

"I'll do it. Go to him." Clint looked at her for the first time since she'd come down, and she saw fear and determination there. He was going to be okay. He just needed to get through this.

Clint nodded at her, fire suddenly in his eyes. He straightened up and took a deep breath. On the exhale, he walked away.

Natasha waited on the floor long after she'd heard the door close. Finally she pushed herself up and began to methodically pick up all the stray arrows. It took a while to get all of them; some had made their way into weird nooks and crannies. She packed up all the arrows into their quivers, and the quivers into their cabinets along the range's wall.

By the time she was done, there wasn't a trace left to prove that Clint had been there at all.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~

The next time Natasha saw Clint was back in the tower. She hadn't seen him while she stayed the night at headquarters, and in the morning she had gone back to the tower after leaving a message for Clint telling him where she was going.

She was sitting in the living room, curled up on the sofa with a book; Bruce was on the other side of the sofa, caught between tapping away at some reports on a Starkpad and reading some encyclopedia thing that didn't look like fun.

Tony came bounding in and jumped onto the sofa, between Bruce and Natasha looking giddy and hyperactive as usual.

"So, whatcha bring me?"

"What?" Bruce asked out of habit. Natasha raised an eyebrow. Tony was about to open his mouth to answer when Thor came in and boomed, "What is the matter, companions?"

"Uh, is that your way of asking what's up?" Tony drawled, "Because I've told you, buddy, it's not-"

He was interrupted by Steve who just came in the door, slightly panting, saying, "Okay, I'm here. What's the situation?"

"Well, I could show you a situation, if you know what I mean, but I don't think that-" Tony was cut off by a swift hit to the shoulder from Natasha.

"Ow! That's hurtful, Russia."

"Wait, why are all of you here?" Bruce asked, looking around the room.

"The man in the ceiling summoned me." Thor said simply.

"Yeah, I was asked to come here as well," Steve supplied cautiously.

"Jarvis? What's up, J? Why've you called us all here?" Tony asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"He brought you guys here, because I asked him to." Clint's voice made everyone turn their heads towards the elevators. Behind him was a figure. There was a collection of sharp intakes to deep gasps when Clint moved inside to let everyone see that it was Coulson, alive and kicking (well, theoretically) behind Clint.

"Whoa, wait, you _died_." Tony was on his feet and edging around to the wall.

Clint shot him an amused look at his blatant distrust and paranoia.

"He's alive. Care to let him explain?"

Natasha saw the humor in his eyes and the slight grin on his face, and she knew that everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live off of comments. :D


	11. Falling Away With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha gets scared and Clint knows how to calm her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day late, sorry. Spring break means different schedule. But here it is! :D
> 
> Beta'd by the incredible Tori :)

The sound of Natasha's bloodcurdling scream made everyone rush to her room. Tony was already assembling his armor around him as he ran; Thor had summoned Mjolnir; Bruce took off his shirt and was looking a little green; Steve had grabbed his shield; and Clint had picked up a bow and quiver. By the time they all reached her room, Iron Man was readying his repulsors, Clint had an arrow notched and was looking for a target, Steve was sweeping the room and Thor and Bruce looked ready to pound something. It was then that they saw Natasha in her underwear, crouching on top of her dresser, huddled against the wall and staring with wide eyes at her bed.

"Jarvis, full sweep now!" Tony yelled, as they all looked around frantically for an enemy.

"Sirs, there appears to be no breach in security, nor is there a trace of an unauthorized presence." Jarvis relayed in his calm manner.

Clint looked at Natasha again, and saw fear and helplessness in her posture and face. She still hadn't acknowledged the other Avengers - still staring at her bed - and her breathing was coming out too fast, on the verge of hyperventilating. Clint followed her line of sight to the bed and back to her. He then realized she wasn't looking at the bed, but _underneath_ the bed.

"Stand down, Avengers." Clint's voice came out softly as he took slow steps towards Natasha.

"What do you mean? What's going on? Jarvis,what the hell?" Tony was still looking around frantically.

Jarvis started speaking but Clint cut him off. "There's no threat here, guys. Just stand down. Trust me." He made his way until he was directly in Natasha's line of sight, blocking her view of the bed. The others looked doubtful, but slowly let down their weapons.

"Hey, Tasha, it's okay. Look at me, baby, c'mon, it's okay." Clint was speaking softly and his hands came up to gently caress her shaking arms. She was still resolutely staring, trying to see through him and not meeting his eyes, so he brought one hand up and stroked her cheek, angling her face towards him. He stepped closer to the dresser and her, and speaking softly, tried to get her attention. The others just stared dumbly at the two, confused at what was going on, but unwilling to do anything.

"C'mon, Tasha, it's okay, it's gone, it's over." Finally she looked at him, but she still wasn't calming down. She shook her head frantically and lifted a hand to point at the bed.

Without breaking eye contact, Clint spoke to the others. "Steve, on my count, I want you to lift up the bed. Tony, when he does, you're going to fire your repulsors at the rat that's hiding underneath. Do you understand?"

"Are you telling me someone is hiding under her bed?" Tony asked incredulously, hands coming back up anyway. Steve moved cautiously towards the bed.

"No, I mean there's a real rat there, and you're going to kill it."

"Okay." Tony said, raising an eyebrow, but taking aim.

"One." Steve put his hands on the railing of the bed. "Two." The sound of the repulsors charging was deafening in the room. "Three." Steve lifted the whole bed, and Tony immediately fired on the rat that was trying to scurry out of sight. The bright light of the repulsors faded away and all that was left was a small shadow where the rat used to be, the small animal completely obliterated.

Natasha gasped loudly, sounding like she was drowning, and shaking even worse. Clint refused to let her look anywhere but at him, murmuring rapidly, "It's over, it's gone. Tony got it, Tash, it's dead, it can't hurt you anymore. Look at me, there you go, it's over, Tasha, it's over."

No one made a comment at the tears that were trailing down her face.

Clint just kept up his litany of soothing reassurances until she stopped sounding like she was drowning, and finally gasped out, "Clint?"

Clint brought both hands to her face, gently wiping away her tears, and smiled brightly at her. "That's it baby, it's okay, I'm here." At this, Natasha brought her arms down around his neck and she let him pull her off the dresser, pulling her into his arms, bridal style. Her arms clung desperately to his shoulders and neck, and she buried her face into his chest. Clint just held her tighter against her.

He turned around, Natasha in arms, and started walking towards the door and the others. He looked at them and said, "I'm going to take her to my room. I'll explain everything later, but trust me, there's no threat. The tower is secure."

Tony started to open his mouth to protest and demand an explanation now, but Steve shushed him and said, "Okay. We trust you, Clint. If you need us, we'll be in the living room." Clint nodded his thanks, and walked past them out the door.

He walked down the hall and turned right into his bedroom, thankful that their rooms were so close together. He walked to his bed, and gently laid Natasha down, but she refused to let go of him, so he simply moved her further into the bed and laid down with her. He used his feet to fumble around with the blanket at the end of the bed and somehow managed to bring it up over the two of them, hoping that her shaking would die down quicker that way. Her head was still buried in his chest, and her hands were clinging to the back of his shirt, crumpling the fabric in her fists. He only shushed her quietly and murmured soothing nothings as his hand stroked her hair, and then up and down her back.

Her shaking simmered down, and her harsh breathing slowed to soft intakes of air as she started sniffling instead of gasping. After several minutes she completely quieted down, and let herself relax into his arms.

Clint kissed her hair, and she finally loosened up her hands. She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. Clint looked at the mess of blotchy skin, dried tear marks and bitten lips and he smiled down at her, leaning in to kiss her softly on her lips and then her cheeks. He affectionately bumped her nose, and she gave him a weak smile.

"D'you wanna talk about it?" Clint asked calmly. One of Natasha's hands came down from his neck, and before she could tuck it to her stomach, he took it in his own hand and gave it a small squeeze.

Natasha's gaze fell from his, breathed in and mumbled into the space between them, "I was getting undressed for a shower when I heard it. I froze. Then I saw it going along the wall and go under the bed, and I remembered, and I just, couldn't,-" Her voice broke and she closed her eyes tight. Clint tightened his grip on her and her hand and kissed her forehead.

"It's okay. Tony got it. It's gone. You're not there anymore." Clint kissed her again.

"I know, I was stupid." Natasha looked down again.

Clint shook his head and said sharply, "No. You were not stupid. Never have been, never will be. You're one of the strongest people I know. And I know Thor." His lips curled up in his classic smirk, and Natasha gave a dry chuckle at that.

Natasha breathed in deeply and let it out loudly, shaking herself like a horse getting rid of a fly. She hummed tunelessly and said, "They're going to want an explanation."

"I can make something up. Or just tell them to drop it; I'm sure they'd do that, god knows we've caught Stark in more compromising,-"

"No, that's okay. They should probably know anyway." Natasha cut him off. Natasha looked up at Clint then, leaned up to give him a kiss on the lips, and then pushed herself up. She was already regretting moving away from his arms, but she had to get back under control.

Clint smiled up at her as he brought his arms behind his head to lean on.

"Could you do it? For me? I don't think coming out in my underwear to talk to them is going to be a good idea." She looked down at herself and smirked, feeling more like normal.

Clint grinned like a hawk as he looked at her body. His expression then softened, "If you want, you can take that shower here, and sleep in my bed tonight. I can go talk to them while you're getting cleaned up."

Natasha moved over the bed and stood up. "That'd be great." She turned back to him, and with a serious face, she said, "Thank you, Clint. For everything."

Clint smiled warmly back and replied, "Of course. Anytime."

Natasha nodded her head once and then turned, taking off her bra and panties as she made her way to the bathroom. Clint appreciated her form and chuckled when she blew him a kiss before she half-heartedly closed the door. He waited until he heard the shower turn on before he got up and made his way to the living room.

Everyone was sitting on the couches and armchairs, vaguely watching some show on the television. Clint knew that they were just waiting for him to come back, and sure enough, when he made his presence known, they all sat up straight and paid attention to him immediately.

It was Steve who spoke first, "Is she going to be okay?" His eyebrows were creased in worry and he was staring at Clint with his full attention. Clint smiled at him, making his body language relax so as to ease the others. He talked while he walked over to the empty armchair that faced the other, "She's fine. She just had a scare." He settled down into the soft cushions.

Tony wanted more. "What do you mean she had a scare? _We_ had a scare. _She_ had a freak out. Over a rat! Who knew the mighty Black Widow was scared of a little rodent?"

Tony laughed while Bruce hissed " _Tony,_ " at him with a disapproving look that went ignored.

"You'd be scared 'of a little rodent' too, if you'd gone through what she'd gone." Clint said lowly with an edge that made Tony sober up and look chastised.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. I thought rats were harmless creatures in this realm? Is that not so?" Thor asked cautiously.

Clint explained, "They're generally harmless, and people can keep them as pets. But if you're faced with a pit-full of them with no way out, and no food, they tend to become enemy number one."

Tony whistled low. "Yikes. What the hell happened?" He had brought a hand to absentmindedly rub at his arc reactor.

Clint shifted in his seat. "There was a mission, in India, where Natasha was working undercover. She spent months working to get to the top with this weapons dealer and human trafficking scumbag who had even worse friends.We were going to take down a lot of people in this op. and I mean, a _lot._ She had made her way into the dealer's bed and everything was going smoothly until someone tipped the guy off about her. One of his more creative friends came up with the idea, and they managed to drug her without her knowing. She woke up at the bottom of a dirt pit, about a meter in diameter, and several meters too tall to climb out of. They had thrown a lot of rats in there with her, I don't know how many. They were most likely some sewer rats from around the slums there. Anyway, it took a while to find her." Clint looked down, in shame at that. "By the time we did, it had been long enough for the rats to get hungry and start eating her."

Clint heard the quiet gasps from Bruce and Steve and the swears under Tony's breath. Thor looked horrified. "Anyway, it was a rough time." He could still see the too skinny body that was covered in blood and deep gashes. She had been trying to protect her face the best she could, but it had taken months for the cuts to fade away. She had jumped every time anyone tried to touch her, and the slightest brushes against another person launched her into attack-mode. She had the worst nightmares he had known her to have after that mission.

"She's gotten better over the years, but she still doesn't particularly like rats." Clint finished, folding his hands in his lap. The others were quiet for a bit.

Thor was the one that spoke first, "I am so honored to have a shield-maiden as strong as the Lady Natasha by my side. To have suffered so much and yet still come out stronger, and more powerful is such an incredible feat, it’s worthy of the gods."

Clint smiled fondly at him, "I'll let her know you said that."

"I didn't even know this place could have rats, did you? I didn't. Jarvis? How do we have rats? Strike that, I don't care, I just want to get rid of them. Call up the best, J, you know the drill, I want this place immaculate of any vermin. We should check for termites while we're at it and get rid of those too if we have them. What other animals could live here? Are dust bunnies real? I don't care, we'll get rid of those too." Tony kept rambling on, and Bruce placed a hand on his forearm, giving him an approving look. This was Tony's way of trying to show that he cared, and Clint knew that within the week, a rat would never again step foot near the Tower ever again. Clint was thankful to the billionaire genius, because they all knew how much that was going to help Natasha's frame of mind in the future.

Clint got up then. "I'm going to go to bed." They all nodded and waved or said their goodnights, all understanding that Clint really meant that he was going to spend time with Natasha, and that they shouldn't bother them anymore tonight.

He walked back to his room, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. When he got to his door, he heard that the shower wasn't running any more. He opened the door to find Natasha sprawled face down on the bed. She was naked with a wet towel crumpled at the foot of the bed. At the sound of the door, she stretched her spine and twisted, the sound of faint popping audible in the room. She turned her face and rested it on her arms bracketing her head. She smiled at Clint who was just staring at her as he closed the door behind him. Her damp hair fell in strands across her eyes and cheek, and she stared back at him with a demure look. Clint walked over to the bed and got on, fitting himself so he was completely on top of her.

Natasha chuckled and wiggled her butt in a playful movement, causing Clint to groan as it rubbed against his jean-clad crotch. He pressed his lips against her shoulder blade and kissed up her back to her neck. Natasha closed her eyes and let herself feel Clint; she felt his breath, hot against her damp skin; his shirt was vaguely tickling against her exposed flesh; the rough denim of his jeans dragged against her legs; and when she arched her back against him, she felt the zipper push against her skin, digging deeper as his erection pushed harder. She felt Clint suck in tender skin between his teeth at the juncture between her shoulder and neck, and felt him bite softly, letting go to lick at the worried spot. Natasha moaned in appreciation. Clint swept her hair out of her face and with two fingers he traced her lips. She kissed the rough pads of his fingers and opened her mouth, inviting him in and sucking on them.

Clint groaned at that and his other hand that was holding the bulk of his weight over her, faltered for a second. Natasha smiled around his fingers and moaned when he continued his open-mouthed kisses, the wet trail he left behind bringing goosebumps as it met the air.

"Mmmm. Thor is quite in awe of you." Clint said in between kisses and bites along her other shoulder blade. He let his fingers slip out of her mouth to trace along her neck and down her side to come around and cup her breast under her.

"Is he now?" Natasha pushed her chest into his hand and sighed as his fingers found her nipple and started rolling it.

Clint hummed in affirmation and straddled her hips, moving his weight down so he could move his other hand under her to her stomach, letting it drop lower. Natasha gasped quietly when he found his mark and rubbed his fingers along her folds, lightly teasing her, but not dipping in.

"And he wasn't before?" Natasha tried to spread her legs to give encouragement to Clint, but was blocked by his legs. Clint pinched her with both hands, and she groaned.

Clint gave one last swipe across her nipple before sliding his hand down her side, and scooting down her legs. "He was. But they've all renewed their awe for you, I think. Scoot up a bit, there." Clint moved down further and slipped his other hand out from under her to maneuver her legs so that he was between them. He then gripped her hips and leaned over to kiss and bite at her ass.

Natasha made a noise between a giggle and a moan and stretched her arms out in front of her to grip the bed frame. Clint gripped her hips and lifted her slightly, canting her hips a bit. Natasha adjusted her weight and spread her legs more to balance better. Clint went back to kissing and kneading her ass, dipping lower and teasing her unashamedly.

"Mmm, that's good. I was-, ah, starting to wor-oh, worry about my reputation." Natasha gasped loudly when Clint's tongue darted out to lap at her folds. Natasha felt herself flush with heat, and her hips undulated under him, trying to get more of his tongue. Natasha relished in Clint's strong hold and she shifted just to feel him tighten his grip on her. Clint just kept up his motions against her cunt, shifting from teasing at the edges to plunging into her and making her moan in pleasure. Natasha's spine was lighting up as he kept licking and sucking and turning her into a writhing mess. She felt herself starting to climb to the edge quickly, but she realized she didn't want to come like this.

Natasha tried to reconnect her brain to find the right words. She pushed through the lust-filled fog and got out, "Hm, wait, Clint, hold on."

Clint licked a stripe against her and pulled back, leaving another kiss the inside of her thigh. Natasha immediately regretted him stopping. "What's wrong?" Natasha could hear the frown and worry in his voice and she relaxed in his grip as a wave of affection rolled over her.

"Nothing. I just really, really want you inside me when I come." She heard Clint suck in a sharp breath and let it out in a low groan. He pulled at her hips and turned her over easily, making Natasha feel like a ragdoll. She looked up at Clint and saw his mouth was shiny with slick and he was licking his lips. His cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were wide and dilated with lust. He looked at her with a soft smile and knelt up, taking his shirt off as he went, showing off his beautiful muscles contracting and rippling. Natasha reached up to touch his chest and run her hand down his muscles to land on his belt. Clint immediately started tugging his belt off and then pushed his jeans down, along with his underwear. He then leaned over Natasha, and let her shimmy his jeans down with her hands and then her legs when she couldn't reach anymore. Clint chuckled lowly at their frantic undressing, and bent his head down to continue kissing her skin around her breasts.

His cock pushed against her stomach, leaving behind a trail of precome as he moved over her chest to latch onto a breast, sucking and licking at her nipple. One of his hands came up to play with her other breast, giving it the same treatment he had done previously on the opposite breast. Natasha groaned and arched her chest into his mouth, bringing a hand to grip his shoulder and neck, pulling him towards herself.

"In. Me. Now." Natasha panted out as she brought her legs up to wrap around his thighs. Clint groaned again and brought his face up to be level with hers. He looked into her eyes and dropped down to give her a long, deep kiss. He broke it and kept his face close to hers, noses touching, still staring into her eyes as he gripped his cock and guided himself to her opening.

Natasha saw his eyes go wide the moment he started pushing in: a slow, long slide in and she couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her as she felt the intimacy of the moment engulf her. When Clint bottomed out he stilled for a moment, still watching her, their fast breaths mingling with each other's. Natasha surged upwards, needing to close the little distance between them, and kissed him fiercely.

Clint rocked his hips slowly against her, and Natasha brought her legs up even higher, hooking them around the small of his back. Clint grunted and started stroking into her deeper. Natasha's hands were reduced to just clinging onto his back, occasionally raking her nails against his back as she slipped and then resuming her position. Clint's arms had managed to wrap around her and he pulled her flush against him as he fucked her with passion.

He kept up that slow but hard pace, savoring the feel of her around him as he kissed everywhere he could reach. Natasha's mouth was slightly ajar, swollen and red from being bitten and kissed. He brought one of his arms out to reach back and hold onto her thigh, bringing her deeper towards him while his other arm tightened to make up for the loss of his other arm. One of Natasha's hands slipped down to the curve of his ass so as to pull him in, as well.

Natasha felt like her heart was bursting, her chest too tight making it hard to breathe. They were so close to each other that she felt like she was just breathing Clint in, trying to absorb as much of him as possible. There was no room between them, and she felt like they'd never be able to figure out where one starts and the other ends. They kept moving together, as one, and Natasha thought that this must be what people called 'love making'.

Clint's hips were stuttering against her, but he kept those thrusts even, smooth and perfect. He kissed her open mouthed and when he pulled back Natasha realized that she was crying. She felt the tears slide down her temples to pool on the pillow beneath her head; Clint smiled his brilliant, warm smile and kissed her temples, chasing the tears away. When he kissed her lips again, Natasha tasted her tears, sweat and Clint.

Natasha felt herself riding her crest, and then Clint shifted and changed the angle slightly. She was rising up and up, and was almost there. On a hard thrust, Clint pulled back slightly, and looking at her, he whispered, "I love you, Tasha."

Natasha let go and fell off the cliff, coming harder than she'd ever had in her life. She clamped down around Clint, tightening her grip, and she felt him coming with her.

They stayed like that together, breathing hard and coming back down. When Clint finally moved and slipped out of her, Natasha whined at the loss. Clint chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm just going to get a towel." He moved off of the bed and padded to the bathroom. Natasha heard the water running and then stop. She watched as Clint came back with the damp towel and sat down on the bed again. With more care than Natasha had ever seen, Clint gently cleaned Natasha's face, wiping away the sweat, and moving down to her neck and chest. The way he moved the towel over and around her breasts made her breath hitch slightly. When he got most of the worst cleaned, he threw the towel in the direction of the bathroom and laid down next to Natasha, bringing an arm around her. When Natasha didn't move closer, Clint raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?" The worry in his voice was still surprising and amazing to hear. He withdrew his hand, letting it hover in the space between them for a moment before tucking it against his body.

Natasha cleared her throat, and looked down at the spot where his hand had been. "What you said, before…" She started, voice small.

"Hey, I meant it, Natasha." She looked up into his eyes and saw he was smiling his easy smile again. "It's true. Has been for a while, and I'm tired of not saying anything." He brought his hand back to her shoulder. "Just because I've said it, doesn't mean I expect you to, if that's not what you feel. I know how you feel about love, and I wouldn't change you if I could." His eyes were bright and honest. Natasha finally took the invitation and moved closer, fitting herself against his body. She was getting a little chilly from the cool air against her warm skin, so Clint reached down for the covers and pulled up the sheet over them both.

They didn't say anything else that night, and Natasha watched as Clint's eyes drifted closed. She felt his chest rising and falling evenly and she could almost pinpoint the moment he fell asleep. She tucked her head closer to him and closed her eyes.

She knew what had been instilled into her from a young age. That love was useless. That love was messy and unneeded in her line of work. That love wasn't real. That love could only hurt you. That love was how people lost. That love was for children.

But fuck it if she didn't feel like a child in that moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my fuel in life. :D


	12. Endlessly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha takes care of an angry Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guys I'm so sorry for the unexpected hiatus. Tori, my absolutely, wonderful, amazing beta, has been going through some stuff, so getting the chapters back has been hard. 
> 
> Hopefully we'll get the last chapter to you guys soon!

"FUCK! Fuck, fucking fuck fuckity, MOTHERFUCKER!" Clint howled as he laid punch after punch after punch to the poor bag in the gym. He was still in his jeans from the mission before, though he had tossed what was left of his ripped shirt aside earlier. His bare skin was glistening with sweat and smeared with dirt and someone else's dried blood.

Natasha felt for him. She stood back by the door, watching Clint. She had been there when he had come back from the mission. It was supposed to have been fairly straightforward, and yet everything that could ever have gone wrong, and more, went wrong. It wasn't Clint's fault at all; he had barely made it out alive himself. Natasha could try and point out all the errors,-the lack of good Intel, the mole that was giving away positions, the unexpected woman and her two little girls, the change of plans that made no sense, the rain that obscured any good line of sight, and so many more things, but she knew it didn't matter what she said. The whole week had just been one fuck-up after another. She knew that Clint blamed himself for all the deaths.

She was impressed Clint had held it together for as long as he had. He had made the best decisions he could under the circumstances but she could see him trying to fight through the deep-rooted frustration and helplessness of the last few days.

" _FUUUUCK_!" Clint's voice cracked at the scream and he grabbed the bag with bloodied hands and started slamming his head against it.

"Clint!" Natasha ran over to where he was and grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around. Clint reacted badly and he swung a fist wildly around as he spun. Natasha ducked it neatly and then reached out to grab the swinging arm. She used his momentum against him and pulled, robbing him of his balance and dropping him on the floor, quickly straddling his ass and thighs and pinning his arm against his shoulders and head down to the floor.

Clint kept fighting, struggling against her hold but unable to break it in his rage. Clint yelled loudly and inarticulately, sound slightly muffled against the mat. He tried to pull his head up to slam it against the ground, but he could barely get an inch before Natasha pinned him down firmly. His free hand was scrabbling against the ground in front, looking for something to use, but his fingers grasped only air. He dragged his nails against the matted floor, but he found no purchase.

"Stop it, Clint. Stop it." Natasha pressed down harder on him, trying to get him to calm down, but it wasn't working. Clint was still trying to squirm away from her; his chest was rising and falling too fast under her hands, and he barely got enough breath in between his shouting. 

" _Clint._ Stop it right now. _Stop it._ " Natasha growled into his ear, voice thick with threat. Clint gasped as he tried to throw her off again, but failed to budge her. He realized he wasn't getting up anytime soon and finally calmed down enough to stop struggling. Natasha could still feel the vibrating anger and tension in his body, but it seemed like the fight in him had subsided for the moment.

"I know you're angry, frustrated and feeling like shit right now," Clint huffed out a mirthless laugh as Natasha began, "but you _cannot_ do this." Clint started struggling again, but stopped with a cry of pain as Natasha twisted his trapped arm behind his back.

"What do you want me to _do_ , then?!" Clint shouted out at her. As soon as he started to try to move away, Natasha simply put more pressure and he paused.

"Do you want me to help?" Natasha asked in a quiet murmur.

Clint froze.

He stayed completely still at her words and tried to process what they meant and what he wanted. Natasha stayed just as still, keeping her weight on him so he wouldn't try to make a dash for it, while giving him time to answer her.

Finally Clint sucked in a sharp breath and on the exhale, he hissed out, " _Yes_."

Natasha sat back and released her hold on him. "Follow me." She stood up gracefully and turned around, walking towards the gym's exit. Clint stayed on the ground for a moment before pushing himself up stiffly. With eyes low on the ground and simmering anger under his skin, he followed her tautly, deciding to leave the ruined shirt on the floor.

They didn’t say a word as Natasha led him through the door and into the elevator. The ride up to their floor was tense and uncomfortable but neither made a motion the entire time. When the doors opened, Natasha walked straight out and towards her room, leaving the door open for him to close behind him.

"Get on the bed." Natasha commanded coolly. She didn't watch as he sat down awkwardly on the edge of the bed; she walked to her dresser and opened a drawer, pulling out several items, all of them familiar to Clint but he wasn't paying attention to them right now. Clint stared resolutely at the closed door and didn't flinch when Natasha threw the items on the bed. He did flinch, however, when Natasha came to stand in front of him and seizing his hair, jerked his head back roughly.

"I said, ' _get on the bed.'_ " Natasha growled at him, letting go of his hair only to shove him by his shoulders so he fell backwards. Clint glared at her but didn't say anything as he pulled himself up so he was fully stretched out on the bed. Natasha followed him, coming up above him before shoving a leg in between his thighs. Her knee was snug against his crotch, and Clint groaned as she moved against him and brought her hand down to roughly paw at the front of his pants.

"Grab the headboard." Natasha ordered, hand increasing pressure on his now hardening cock. Clint huffed out an exasperated breath but complied, gripping the bars of the headboard above him. Natasha's other hand reached down to force his thighs wider, and continued to rub forcefully through his layered crotch. Clint scowled at the treatment, but angled his hips up for her. Natasha simply grabbed him through the jeans, eliciting a sharp pant of air as Clint arched against her.

Natasha kept up her coarse handling and Clint started rolling his hips along with her; Clint was reveling in the roughness of the action and wanted to come just like that; dirty, messy and fast. He started gritting his teeth, huffs of air fighting through when a low moan started in his chest. He was so close already and he just wanted to get off. He closed his eyes, and half-forgot Natasha was there as he pumped his hips against her knee and now both hands, relishing the burn of the denim against his hot and sensitive flesh. He was right on edge, squeezing his eyes hard, and seeing the horizon just out of his grasp when all of a sudden he felt nothing.

With a frustrated gasp, Clint opened his eyes to see Natasha had her hands hovering just over him and had moved her leg backwards, giving him no leverage to thrust against. Clint growled at her sudden lack of interest and brought one hand down from the headboard to finish himself off, but before his hand got close to touching, one her hovering hands shot out and gripped his wrist in a tight vice and shoved it into the bed beside him. Clint immediately reached out with his other hand, but was cut short as  she did the same with that hand.

"What the fuck?" Clint snarled out at her, eyes narrowing.

Natasha looked hard at him and simply said, "No."

Clint balked at her for a moment, eyes wide and mouth open in confusion before he scowled and gritted out, "Fuck you."

He started to wrestle wildly against her hold. Natasha wasn't in as good of a position as before and he managed to slip her grasp, bringing his freed hand to rub at himself. He didn't get to enjoy it for long before Natasha renewed her grip on his wrists and launched herself at him, pulling his arms up by his face and bringing her knee back to press down on his groin. Clint gasped at the sudden pain on his cock and balls and moaned at the shock of it.

"I said, _'no'_." Natasha hissed into his ear.

Clint shuddered but stopped fighting her. He still glared at her when she finally shifted her body back up. She kept her hands on his wrists for a few more moments, and then, to emphasize her point, she pressed down on them before releasing them. Clint kept them where they were, but his face was pulled down into a frown as he closed his eyes, finally refusing to look at her. He felt the bed move as she got off, but didn't bother to open his eyes to see where she went. He was trying to focus on his breathing and trying not to think about the lingering dull pain in his crotch from not being allowed release and then the crushing sensation that had followed.

He still didn't open his eyes when Natasha grabbed his wrist and stretched it out and up above him. He registered the familiar soft lining of the leather cuffs that they had used before, but it wasn't until he heard the _click_ of Natasha connecting the latch of the cuffs to the headboard that he finally cracked an eye open to see what she was doing. When she was done checking that everything was in order on that arm, she moved around the bed to the other side to do the same to his opposite wrist, not looking at Clint as she worked. Clint tested his already bound arm and noted that he really wouldn't be able to get out of it unless Natasha wanted him to. It both thrilled him and made him nervous as his stomach clenched at the realization.

He watched as Natasha came back to him and undid his belt and the buttons on his jeans. With a single smack on the side of his thighs, Clint lifted his hips so that she could pull off his pants and underwear, leaving him completely naked.

Natasha moved away and reached for an object at the foot of the bed. Clint stubbornly refused to talk to her, but when she started putting cuffs on his ankles, Clint started fidgeting. His arms were useless but he couldn't stop from pulling at the restraints and twisting his body. Clint wondered if she was going to pick up the spreader bar that was poking him in the shin, but she didn't. Instead, she tugged one of the cuffed ankles to the corner of the bed and fastened it to the lock that was there. Clint hadn't even noticed that she had installed them there. Done with one leg, she moved to the other, and Clint tested the bindings; Clint's heart dropped when he realized he truly couldn't move anymore. He felt vulnerable; spread out and unable to get away. As soon as he heard the click of the other cuff, he started fidgeting again, this time more because of nerves than testing anything.

Clint looked up with wide eyes at her, but she still hadn't looked back at him, instead more focused on the toys on the bed. She picked up a cock ring and Clint swallowed hard, shaking his head.

"Tash…" Clint half-protested as she moved to fit the ring on him. Natasha ignored him as he moaned at the restricted and unforgiving feeling of the ring; snug and locked in place. His breathing was picking up as he saw her walk away from the bed again. He forced himself to calm down when she went back to the dresser but failed when he saw that she pulled out a black box that Clint instantly identified as a TENS unit with e-stim pads trailing behind.

The bed dipped as Natasha came back and settled herself in between his spread legs. She leaned over and reached for something off to the side of him and when she grabbed it, Clint took a quick glance at it; it was the small bundle of sounds.

Clint unconsciously started struggling against the cuffs again while he sorted through all the new information. It wasn't until he felt a hand gently rubbing against his thigh that he opened his eyes (when had they closed?) to see that Natasha was looking at him with a comforting smile. Clint let go of the breath he hadn't known he was holding and tried to renew his efforts to calm down. They had played around with them a few times before, but never when he was this wired.

Natasha took care as she stuck the pads on the inside of his thighs, where he was most sensitive, and on his balls. His poor cock gave a twitch at the feeling. Natasha took hold of his cock and fitted what felt like another ring just under the head. Clint strained his neck to see what she was doing, but when he saw her pick up a sound and connect it to the unit, he let his head fall back with a drawn out, "Fuuuuuck."

Natasha gave him a wicked smile, and grabbed a bottle of lube from the pile of toys and started slicking up the metal rods. She added a dollop to the head of his cock before steadying it with one hand and bringing the sound to hover over it with the other. Clint gasped at the first feel of Natasha sliding the rod inside, slowly and only an inch at a time before coming back up. She let him get used to the feeling slowly, and soon it was buried all the way in, with the end barely peeking out as a single wire trailed down his cock and thighs.

Natasha smoothed her hand up and down his thigh as a gesture of comfort, but Clint was still tense from everything.

"Ready?" She asked plainly. Clint grunted in affirmation, but Natasha gave him a light smack.

"Fuck, yes! Just do it already!" He had barely finished talking before Natasha turned on the unit.

Clint opened his mouth in surprise. The current riding inside of his dick was a pleasurable hum and the e-stim pads on his balls and thighs were making him twitch sporadically. The combined feeling of the two made him harder than before and he closed his eyes to enjoy it. 

Natasha watched the display of Clint shuddering and twitching, spread out, helpless and vulnerable on the bed and smirked as she saw the obvious pleasure he was in; his eyes were closed and his head was gently shaking from side to side as little gasps and sounds made their way out his mouth. Natasha played around with the settings, keeping everything at the lower strengths, alternating between them. They had done the harder settings before, but Natasha didn’t want to play with those tonight.

Right now, she was all about making Clint lose his mind.

It took a while, but the constant stimulation was finally beginning to take its toll on Clint. His cock was leaking precome around the sound, and his hips were getting twitchier, trying to thrust up against something. Clint was getting more vocal as he got closer to the edge, but there was a hint of frustration because the ring was making it difficult.

"Fuck, Tasha, please. Let me come." Clint begged as another cycle ramped up, going to one of the stronger settings. "Please, just-... I need it, Tash…" He choked off a groan as his hips arched of the bed. Natasha said nothing and watched as Clint got closer and closer to climax. Clint, for his part, started whimpering when Natasha stayed silent and when the ring still didn't come off. He had come with the ring on before, but Clint hadn't particularly liked it. Though he was starting not to care, he needed to come so badly; he felt like he was going to come anyway, ring be damned. Natasha played with the settings again and put it to a higher setting than before, keeping it there. Clint started struggling again, whimpering and begging Natasha to let him come. The sound was getting intense and his balls felt full and heavy as they were given no relief from the current through the pads.

"Tasha! I can't...- please, I'm going to-!" Clint moaned, and just then, he felt the current stop. He felt a sting as Natasha ripped the e-stim pads off of his tender skin and thighs, making his balls ache horribly. She quickly took out the sound, too, leaving him naked and empty once again. The sudden lack of stimulation and the interruption of his chase to orgasm made his eyes fly open. He started thrashing against his restraints and began to scream a colorful list of insults at Natasha.

Natasha just waited patiently for Clint to calm down. That actually took several long minutes.

When Clint had finally stopped yelling at her and was still for more than a few seconds, Natasha asked quietly, "Are you done?"  Clint refused to look at her and stuck both of his middle fingers up at her in his cuffs. That made Natasha chuckle which in turn made Clint huff out air, sulking a bit.

Natasha grinned and picked up another item from the bed. She scooted over him, dragging her clothed body against his, until she was straddling his chest. Clint, against his better judgment, looked up at her. Natasha showed him a silk, dark blindfold they'd played with before. It was  one of Clint's least favorite items, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Natasha lowered the strip of cloth over his eyes and pulled his head up to tie it at the back.

Stripped of his vision, Clint went stock still.

He felt a brush of lips against his and he leaned into it, trying to find more, but Natasha moved away, making Clint whine low in his throat.

"You're okay." Natasha murmured. Clint heard a rustling of clothes and felt her move down his torso. He felt her grab his cock and position it before he was enveloped in a tight heat. Clint moaned loudly when Natasha settled flush against his hips; he felt her inner walls contract and shift and Clint was panting by the time she raised her hips, only to fall back down again.

Natasha steadied herself by placing her hands flat on his chest, and moved slowly, just a steady rise and fall of her hips with a small circle on the slide down. Clint had no leverage to thrust up into her with her body pinning him down, and could only take what she deemed fit to give him.

His chest was heaving, breathing uneven as she brought him to the brink again and again. Every time he thought he was going to come, Natasha would stop and hold still above him and wait until he backed off of the ledge. It was infuriating, the measured and unhurried pace she set, and Clint's chest was feeling too tight. He tried to breathe through it, but it was getting hard, getting so close to bliss and then being brutally cut short. He longed for the relief that he knew release would give him, but Natasha firmly kept him back from it.

Clint didn't realize he was crying under the blindfold until he felt Natasha's hand run through his hair and caress his face; he hadn't even realized she had moved her hand until then. His mind was slowly disappearing as the single need to come overwhelmed everything else.

He lost count of how many times she brought him to the edge, but after one time, he started begging again, voice frantic; "Please, Tasha, just let me come. I need it, please." His words were starting to slur into each other and even stringing a sentence together took energy he didn't think he had. Natasha stayed silent and cupped his cheek. In desperation, Clint turned his face into her palm and kissed it, whispering his pleas. Clint gave a choked cry when she started moving her hips again, movement maddening. Clint couldn't stop the tears squeezing out of his tightly closed eyes as he got close again; it wasn't taking much to get him to the edge anymore, but it made the wait to come down that much harder.

"Please! Jus', please, I can't-, I have- to, Tash…" Clint whimpered, feeling so full and ready to burst, but fearing the inevitable pause. Clint screamed in frustration when he felt her stop moving again. He took to thrashing out again, trying to throw her off of him while lashing out only to be cruelly stopped short by the cuffs.

It seemed like an eternity until Clint was finally reduce to soft, pleading noises. When Natasha lifted her hips again, Clint expected her to keep fucking him, but she raised herself completely off of him and shifted off of the bed. Clint didn't know what was worse; the never-satisfying fucking, or the fact that he was left alone... Hard and wanting and exposed. Clint whined out in desperation either way and only quieted when he felt her hand run through his damp hair.

"Please, please, please, Tasha, please," Clint babbled when he felt her hand disappear. He tried to move in her direction, and cried out hopelessly when he couldn't. Her hand returned to caress his cheek and Clint turned to it, seeking any kind of comfort she would give him.

"Open your mouth, baby." Natasha commanded quietly. Without thinking, Clint obeyed, letting his lips part wide open. He felt something rubber fit into his mouth and he moaned in despair when it filled his mouth and made it impossible for him to close his teeth around it. The rubber invaded his mouth and he wasn't able to swallow easily anymore. He let hands turn his head to the side and felt strong straps go around his temples and hair so that the gag would stay put. When the hands disappeared again, Clint whimpered weakly; he didn't have the will to turn his head again, so a trail of drool fell from his open mouth to soak the sheets below him.

Clint flinched when he felt a hand stroke his hip. It was joined by another hand on his other hip and he felt the bed dip again. The touches continued and moved down to his thighs, trailing down his legs. On the way back up, fingers traced his inner thighs and then continued all the way to flutter over his exposed hole. Clint grunted when he felt fingers push and prod at the flesh around his entrance; he started whimpering again when they did nothing but explore. He was expecting and wanting something to push past the ring of muscle, but he was denied and left shivering as the fingers teased and skimmed his skin.

It felt like hours had passed before Clint heard a click of a lube bottle being opened. He cried out in relief as a wet finger slicked up his hole; his skin felt too tight and over sensitized and the coolness of the lube let him breathe easier.

He moaned loudly around the gag when he felt a finger finally push in. It moved quickly and efficiently, adding another finger in no time. It felt good to be stretched and Clint tried to push back onto the fingers, but was held still by a hand gripping his hip. A third finger joined in, pulling the muscle wider and Clint could only pant heavily as he felt the lightest brush over his prostate. The fingers continued their stretching, and then focused solely on his prostate, rubbing over the little bundle of nerves over and over, alternating between soft, barely-there touches, and harsh presses straight against the gland. Clint's chest was heaving again with the building sensation, and his brain was frying with his need to come in no time at all. He heard someone making harsh noises and then realized it was him, mumbling and gasping through his gag. The fingers stroked along his prostate again and then pulled out, only to be replaced by a hard and unforgiving object that was pushed in deeper than the fingers.

When the object was all the way inside, Clint felt stuffed and ready to come hard, but nothing happened. The fingers were gone, the object stayed still and he heard nothing but his own ragged breathing.

Then there was nothing. Again.

 He felt something breaking inside of him, and he screamed hysterically around the gag, fighting against the restraints and shuddering uncontrollably. He screamed and screamed until he felt his voice go hoarse and then screamed some more.

He lost energy all at once. His body was trembling and quivering with involuntary tremors and he could hear himself wheezing as he desperately tried to suck in air. His face was turned to the side again, and the cooled, wet saliva stuck to his cheek. He felt his racing heart start to slow again as he tugged weakly against a cuff.

"Good boy." He heard a soft voice say distantly and he vaguely wondered if it meant him.

He felt skin touch his swollen cock and he whimpered when he felt a pressure release. The touch vanished and he was all alone again. When his heart no longer felt like it was about to jump out of his chest, he shifted his hips and felt the object that was still in there. That was when he felt it come to life.

Clint yelled as he felt merciless vibrations travel throughout his body, starting in his ass. It was too much, too harsh, too overwhelming and Clint cried harder as the object dug viciously into his prostate. He was sobbing uncontrollably and choking violently on the gag. He couldn't handle it, couldn't hold back, he was going to come.

And then, his mind went blissfully blank. 

He felt like he was floating. Free.

He felt good. Light.

He felt happy. Peaceful.

He felt invincible and carefree, easily breathing in and enjoying the feel of his lungs expanding and contracting.

He felt wonderful as though nothing could touch him.

He felt safe.

He felt good.

He heard someone humming. It was beautiful and clear and it made him smile. He felt like it was a song just for him.

His own personal melody.

He realized he should probably look for the owner of that song, but he didn't feel like opening his eyes yet.

He realized there was something warm pressing against him, and he sighed contently, liking the feeling and wanting more. He turned towards the touch and then he was wrapped in soft warmth, making him feel protected and loved.

He felt good.

~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~

Natasha spent a long time holding Clint in her arms.

The scene had been by far, the most intense scene they'd done, and she had been worried that she had pushed too hard and that she had done irreparable damage. It wasn't until she saw the soft smile spread across his face that she knew she had done right by Clint.

He was completely out of it as she gently pulled out the vibrator and tossed it off the bed. She carefully undid the cuffs on his ankles and wrists and noticed how he was completely pliant as she moved his limbs. She tenderly pulled out the spit-covered ball gag from his mouth and brushed the pads of her fingers across his lips. Natasha turned the lights low before she slowly pulled the damp blindfold free from his face, and breathed out in relief to see the peaceful expression on his face.

All of his worried lines were gone, and his breathing was nice and easy. His mouth was slightly ajar and curved up in an absent smile. Natasha grabbed a towel and softly wiped away the mingled sweat, tears and lube, taking gentle care so that he wouldn't be bothered. When she was finished she crawled up the bed, bringing the soft down comforter with her,  covering them both with it. She pulled hesitantly at his shoulders, but he moved easily and willingly until he was boneless against her body.

Natasha breathed in his scent, and ran her hands lightly against his back as she hummed an old Russian lullaby she knew. Clint sighed contently.

She heard him mumble, "Tash," and then he was asleep, breathing unrestricted and body loose and relaxed.

Natasha timed her breathing with his, and enjoyed the feel of his chest rising and falling with hers. It didn't take long before she fell asleep either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost done! Ahhhh!
> 
> I hope you guys are still reading! :D


	13. I Belong To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo sorry for the delay. Life just catches up, haha. But hey. it's here now, so that's fun! 
> 
> Some warnings for this chapter: Graphic Violence. Both Natasha and Clint get beat up pretty bad, so if that's a trigger, be aware. (If you wanted a non-graphic summary of what happens in this chapter, I can send you one, just drop a comment:)

"And then she said- _hmph!_ Fuck." Clint coughed and spit out blood, "She said, 'If you stay on the left side, you might avoid the shark, but don't orgasm until after the pizza delivery guy takes the shovel away, or else you'll ruin the surprise." He smiled, showing bloody teeth.

Natasha barked out a laugh and then sucked in a sharp breath, huffing through a blow to her stomach before dissolving into badly-stifled giggles.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Natasha panted. "What did you do, then?" A loud _smack_ made her face twist violently to the right.

Clint grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but got punched hard in the jaw, making him groan instead. He spit out more blood and saliva. "What do you think?" He chuckled dryly.

Natasha gasped as a fist connected with an already fractured rib. "You _didn't!_ " She wheezed out, breaths coming in small pants as she raised her head to watch Clint.

"Oh yeah, ARGH!" Clint convulsed as an electric cattle prod became friends with his open flesh on his hip. "I JUMPED OUT WITH THE SHOE, BUT I- FUCK! MISCALCULATED, AND HE LET THE PIGEON GET AWAY!" Clint screamed through the pain, shuddering involuntarily even when the prod was moved away.

" _No_!" Natasha gritted out through clenched teeth as a knife sliced her shoulder. "I thought that was, _arck_ , a rumor!" Her head was snapped up by her hair so her throat was bared, but she just laughed weakly.

"I swear, I'm not, FUCK, making this shit up. It, FUCKING happened! God!" Clint hissed out, as he felt a burning sensation run down his spine. He kept trying to look at Natasha, but shadows kept getting in the way.

Natasha let out another giggle that quickly turned into a grimace of pain. Her head was throbbing and she couldn't feel her right fingers, but she wasn't too worried because they were probably just numb.

They'd been here for a couple hours now, getting royally beat up by these amateurs. They were both of them tied down to simple metal chairs and they were facing each other. The guys with the big sticks had finally given up asking questions, but they weren't done with them yet. They seemed to have gotten a bit angrier when Natasha and Clint had started to ignore them.

This was a milk run. Granted, a very painful one, but Clint and Natasha had been _volunteered_ to be the bait while the other Avengers ran around doing their thing. It had made sense, when outlining the battle plan, and as the two very-much-human members of the team, they seemed like the perfect option. Though, just because they were used to a higher caliber of torture, didn't make it any less painful, as Clint had plainly pointed out. But he'd agreed, and to be honest, it made for an excellent time to catch up some stories from other missions.

"God, you really do have a way with women." Natasha quipped as she felt another slice of the knife on her other shoulder. She was starting to hope the other Avengers would hurry up and take care of whatever Big Boss they were dealing with, so that they could get out of here. It wasn't that they couldn't handle it, but it was annoying to be laid up for major breaks in bones and dozens of stitches were always itchy.

Clint huffed out a laugh at that. "I've lost my touch recently." His face contorted in a scowl when a metal crowbar impacted against his shoulder. These guys weren't that creative, which was a good thing, but it meant that they didn't care where they were swinging. Natasha could see he was starting to favor his left shoulder, and imagined that he might have dislocated it. She couldn't tell from where she was, even underneath the tattered shirt he was wearing.

"-not talking, yeah. The girl? Sure." One of the thugs that had been watching them put his phone away. Natasha had stopped paying attention to them after assessing all their weaknesses; all four of them. Really, child's play. She knew they'd been asking questions and making rude comments the whole time they've been there, but Natasha tuned them out into white noise. Now her ears pricked up, wondering what brought the change on.

The guy that had been on the phone motioned for the two guys on Clint to come over. He gestured to the guy on Natasha to watch the two of them. They walked a little away and began to whisper among themselves. Natasha took the opportunity to look Clint over.

He looked pretty bad, but he was far from broken; he had cuts and burns all over his arms and legs, and his hip looked like it was going to need serious medical attention as she watched it bleed continuously. His shoulder looked uncomfortable and his right eye was swelling shut, dark bruises quickly rising along his jaw and cheek. But underneath all the grime, sweat and blood, his eyes were watching her sharply, and a small smile was tugging at his cut lips.

"You look good." He said with a grin. Natasha huffed a laugh, imagining how she looked right now; she knew she had more slices along her shoulder and arms than his burns and bruises combined. Her right hand had been crushed, and most likely broken quite a few fingers but she couldn't feel them right now,- probably some nerve damage there. She felt blood dripping down her face from a blow to her temple that had cut open, making more of a mess than anything. She knew she was going to have ugly bruises on her stomach and her breaths were getting more and more labored as the adrenaline wore off, indicating she had maybe a couple more ribs hurt than she initially thought. Overall, she had looked better other days, but Clint kept looking at her with that soft smile on his battered face.

"You don't look so bad yourself," She replied, chuckling, and looking around, barely sparing their 'guard' a glance.

Her gaze was brought back to his face when he said, "I mean it. You always look beautiful." Natasha felt her cheeks flush slightly, mentally laughing as the thought that the blood already on there wouldn't show a blush anyway ran through her mind.

"I think you might have a concussion, Clint."

Clint just shook his head and kept that soft smile on his face. He opened his mouth to reply but he shut it quickly and his expression hardened when he saw the thugs walking back. The two that had been wailing on Clint walked back to his chair and one of them grabbed him by his hair and pulled back sharply; Natasha heard a crack and froze for a moment before she realized the crack wasn't a bone snapping, not loud enough, and she breathed easily again. Clint was struggling a little, but the man put a knife against his throat, effectively making Clint stop.

The last guy, the leader, Natasha guessed, walked in between the chairs and crouched in front of Natasha.

"You're going to tell us where the other Avengers are, or Hawkeye's not going to be a pretty little bird anymore." The man sneered at her.

Natasha had to reevaluate the whole situation. These guys hadn't known they were Avengers when they'd first started the beatings. Now they were going to use Clint to get her to talk. It was a dumb move, because Natasha was the least likely person to break, regardless of who they were torturing. Clint had gone through worse, but it was going to suck having to see and hear him getting the brunt of it while she remained silent.

When she simply stared at the guy, he got up and slapped her across the face before turning and grabbing the cattle prod. Natasha felt hands grabbing her head and facing her towards Clint, forcing her to watch as the leader-guy moved out of the way only to dig the prod into Clint's stomach. Clint yelled out and started convulsing again, trying to squirm away from the electricity.

Natasha's heart clenched at the sight, but kept her mouth resolutely closed. It seemed like an eternity before the guy finally pulled the prod away, leaving Clint gasping desperately and shaking violently.

"That..all…you…got?" Clint rasped out between gulping breaths.

Natasha schooled her body to not react when she saw the leader-guy pick up the crowbar. This was getting ridiculous, and Natasha just wanted to take Clint and go home. But they hadn't gotten the call yet, so she watched impassively as the guy looked at her and raised an eyebrow as if to say 'wanna start talking?'. Getting no reply, the guy swung the crowbar and it whistled through the air to land with a loud _CRACK_ on Clint's left knee.

Clint screamed in agony.

Natasha knew his kneecap had just been shattered and she hated that Clint was going to be laid up for an extra month for that. Two, if she can keep him in the hospital.

She didn't flinch when the crowbar was swung again and landed on the same target. Clint's screams echoed in the empty warehouse they were in. Really? A warehouse? How fucking original. A third swing of the crowbar made Clint choke on his next scream. It was definitely going to be two months in the hospital, thought Natasha.

This wasn't fun anymore.

Clint was sweating and shaking uncontrollably as he gasped wildly, trying to fight the pain and failing. When the next swing of the crowbar connected with his stomach, Clint stopped breathing. His mouth was gaping open and closed, like a fish out of water, trying to get oxygen, but he was literally out of air.

Natasha almost called the whole thing off then and there, Avengers be damned. Clint shouldn't have to go through this. He's had enough shit missions with SHIELD, he doesn't need to be putting up with this shit even for an Avengers mission. So what if the world was in danger? They weren't fucking martyrs on a pedestal. Natasha wanted to kill each of these guys and take Clint away. Far away. Maybe an island or a coast. Somewhere with the ocean. Warm. She thinks Clint would like that. Florida was supposed to be nice this time of year. Hell, Florida was nice all year round.

Clint's ragged wheezing brought Natasha's thoughts back to the present. His eyes were shut closed against the pain, and he was still shivering nonstop. It was pretty fucking cold in here. She'd definitely take them somewhere warm.

The leader-guy looked at Natasha expectedly, but she just stared at Clint, expression cool. 'Cool as a cucumber' Clint had told her once. She gave a small smile at the memory, and the leader-guy barked out a laugh.

"You're actually _enjoying_ this, aren't you, girl? Hear that, Hawk? Girl don't care 'bout you." Clint just kept gasping, head lolling against his chest. Natasha had to hold back a long suffering sigh at the leader-guy's reaction.

"Alrighty then! Here's a present from the spider!" The leader-guy said cheerfully as he grabbed the cattle prod again. He jammed it against Clint's ruined kneecap and Clint's voice cracked on his scream. His cries were hoarse and rough and then he went silent. He'd fallen unconscious from the pain. His breathing was laborious. 

Natasha shifted slightly in her seat. The leader-guy noticed.

"Ah, so she _does_ care!" He practically purred as he rounded on Natasha. She looked up at him, expressionless, but it was too late. He grabbed her jaw and she was vaguely reminded of her mission in Russia. He leaned in and whispered, "I wonder what the spider will say, once the bird can't sing anymore?" He smiled viciously and his tongue darted out to lick the blood on her cheek. Natasha didn't flinch.

The leader-guy chuckled and leaned back, turning away to walk to behind Clint to a table there. He picked up a bucket and walked back to where they were. He lifted the bucket and overturned it ungracefully, pouring dirty water on Clint's head. Clint woke up immediately, and started struggling for breath again. Natasha saw him panic for a moment, not knowing where he was, and she wanted to kill these guys all over again when she saw Clint's wide-eyed expression and lost eyes for just a split second before his gaze fell on Natasha. Despite his arduous task of attempting to inhale oxygen, as soon as he made eye contact with Natasha, he smiled.

He actually, fucking _smiled_.

Natasha knew he was starting to lose it, mind going delusional with pain, and she was about to call it off when she felt her hip sting, twice.

Thank fucking god.

That was the other Avenger's telling her they'd finished their side of the mission, and that it was time to go home.

"Clint?" Natasha ventured, ignoring the surprised looks of the leader-guy and his thugs at her broken silence.

Clint kept staring at her like he was a moth to her flame. His right eye had fully shut, and his face had gone a sickly shade of pale. But at his name, his smile went wider, and his eyebrow arched.

"Hey baby, there's something I've wanted to tell you." Natasha continued.

"The fuck are you going on about, girl? This better be your goodbyes." Leader-guy was saying, picking up the cattle prod again.

Clint ignored him, and rasped out quietly, "Yeah?" He hacked out a wet cough, "What's that?" He coughed again, spitting out a lot of blood in the process.

Leader-guy approached Clint again, but he never got to touch him again, because a knife had buried itself in his neck, blood spurting out comically as he stared, wide-eyed down at Clint, before falling to the ground.

"I love you." Natasha grinned before springing into action. She'd gotten out of her restraints without any of these goons seeing, and she'd thrown the knife she'd taken off the guy behind her. She reached behind her and used gravity for her to flip the guy on his back, before snapping his neck with a knee to the throat. The two guys behind Clint started scrambling and one took the crowbar and charged at her, but Natasha simply dodged the attack and spun around, letting the guy keep moving, now behind her, as she scooped up the cattle prod and impaled the fourth guy through the stomach with it. The guy behind her spun around and came running at her again, and this time she waited until he had the crowbar above his head before she jumped up and kicked him in the face, breaking his nose in the process. The guy stumbled backwards, but Natasha moved over to the leader-guy who was convulsing on the floor from the blood loss, and she grabbed the handle of the knife, yanking it out and severing his larynx in the process, before spinning around and throwing the knife at the broken-nose guy, handle now sticking out of his eye. He dropped to the ground, screaming, and Natasha strode over to where he was kneeling, reached out with both hands, and taking hold of his head, she snapped his neck and let go, watching as the limp body fell to the floor.

"Really? You're telling me this _now?_ You know what, forget it, I don't care, I'm happy. You love me. That's, that's amazing." Clint stared at her, wheezing through his sentences, but in full snarky mode. He was still shaking and his face was still paler than Natasha liked, but he was smiling his bright, soft smile that made her heart feel warm.

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head." Natasha smirked. "And why are you still tied up?" She teased as she walked over to where he was sitting.

"Ya know, it's actually kind of hard to undo these things when you're concentrating on _not dying._ " Clint quipped back as Natasha went to work at untying his bindings. They had cut off a lot of circulation and Clint groaned at the sudden increase of blood flow. He groaned again when he started shifting around. Natasha didn't blame him; he was much more banged up than she was, and she was feeling it down to her bones.

Natasha finished freeing Clint and before she knew it, she was crashing their mouths together. Clint huffed out a surprise but gave back in enthusiasm. Natasha pulled back slightly to brush her lips against his bloodied ones, and smiled against his skin. Clint smiled back and then she straightened up again as she maneuvered him to get in a good position to stand up; she was wary of his damaged shoulder, and yup, it had been dislocated. She switched sides and let him lean almost all of his weight on her as she helped him up. The movement had been painstakingly slow and hard on Clint whose smile had faded and was now panting with effort and swaying dangerously.

"You might wanna get that knee checked out." Natasha deadpanned, and Clint barked out a sharp laugh. He leaned heavily on her as they slowly and carefully made their way across the warehouse to wait for the pickup that was supposed to be coming in a few minutes. By the time they reached outside, neither of them could stand anymore, though and Natasha helped Clint slide down in a controlled fall as her knees buckled under her as well.

"This better have been fucking worth it," Clint whined, "It's going to take forever to heal from this." His head was too heavy for him to hold upright anymore, so he let it fall on Natasha's shoulder who was sitting by his side. Natasha hissed in pain at the contact, but didn't move. She let her right hand intertwine with Clint's left as they sat against the wall of the abandoned warehouse, waiting in the winter night. Both of their legs were stretched out in front of them and Natasha knew that Clint was hovering dangerously on the edge of unconsciousness from the pain of moving.

"Florida." She spoke loudly.

Clint jerked slightly, coming back to attention after he had closed his eyes for a moment. "Wha'?" He mumbled, confused.

"We should go to Florida. When this is over and you can move, let's go there for a few days. The beach." Natasha sighed and pulled her free hand against her stomach, trying to breathe through the pain there.

"M'kay. Sound's good." Clint replied thoughtfully. His hand squeezed hers briefly, before adding, "Wanna see you in a bikini. Bet 'cha look good. You always look good."

Natasha heard the helicopter, and then saw it, making a beeline for them.

"Only if you wear one too." She replied, and Clint huffed out a weak laugh.

"Deal." Clint gasped as his leg jerked automatically. Then he laughed again, "That'll be hilarious."

"What?" Natasha asked as the helicopter touched down. She could see Captain America jumping out and jogging towards them, a few agents from medical in tow.

"Strike Team Delta in bikinis. Makes for a great team bonding exercise." Natasha snickered at that, and let her head rest on his, adding more pressure to her stinging shoulder. She enjoyed the thoughts running between them. The last one she landed on before she slipped into unconsciousness was that Clint was right:

They make a great Strike Team Delta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing. I can't believe I'm finished with this story. I'm so proud that I actually wrote the whole thing, and even more so, that people have liked it. It really means a lot to me that you guys stuck through this long with it. So thank you, so, so much for reading it. I love you all! <3
> 
> And as a fun little treat, I've posted a 'deleted scene' from this fic! It takes place much earlier in the story, but it's smutty so bonus! Go check that out if you'd like! (I've made this into a series, so it's there). 
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading, and a huge thank you to Tori who beta'd almost the entirety of this fic,- that's a lot. I'm so grateful to that woman! :D


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked to do an epilogue, and I realized I needed more closure for this fic, so here's the last of it! Thank you everyone for reading! <3

Natasha was right. Florida _was_ nice all year round.

A gentle breeze made her white summer dress ripple around her frame, and she welcomed it against her warm skin. She was under a large beach parasol, and her sun hat was large enough to protect her face. She reclined in her chair, and looked out over her sunglasses to watch Clint splashing around in the surf.

Clint was gorgeous. The sun had been kind to him, and he was now sporting a lovely golden tan. His hair looked lighter too, blonder streaks coloring his hair that glistened under the glittering sun when wet.

Natasha chuckled to herself when she saw Clint's full body. He had insisted on wearing a speedo, joking about 'how else am I going to get an even tan?', and Natasha had to admit, he looked damned fine in one. His scars were visible, his knee with the worst of it, but the sun was already starting to fade them a little bit. Natasha was so happy to see that Clint was walking easily, running around in the waves like normal. The physical therapy had been grueling and difficult, but Clint had worked harder than Natasha had ever seen him do.

Natasha picked up her margarita and sucked from the fancy straw that came with the drink. It was nice and cold, a welcome respite from the humid heat of the summer day. Natasha loved it, feeling how the sun warmed the sand as she dug into it with her feet. She took another sip of her drink and smiled when Clint resurfaced from the water. He was snorkeling and had on goggles that made him look adorably dorky.

Natasha watched him, and after a while, he turned around to look for her. When he located her, he gave her the goofiest smile she'd ever seen, making Natasha laugh out loud. He took off his goggles, and he motioned for her to join him in the surf. Natasha held up her drink as an excuse and settled more in her chair.

Apparently, that wasn't enough for Clint, who bounded through the waves, making dramatic movements as he pushed through, first the low tide, and then through the sand.

Natasha couldn't help grinning at him as he approached, but then she realized he wasn't slowing down.

"No, no, no, wait!" Natasha squealed and then laughed when Clint slid to a stop, only to dart in and kiss her on the cheek. Natasha squirmed and yelped when she felt the slobbering kiss and the rest of the droplets from his bathing suit hit her bare skin.

"That's cold!" Natasha pouted, but she couldn't hold a frown, not with the way that Clint was beaming down at her.

"It's barely cold! Come join me in the water!" Clint laughed, playfully tugging on her dress and drenching the fabric there.

Natasha lifted her drink again and said, grinning, "Can't, sorry." She proceeded to take another drag through her straw.

She'd barely swallowed when Clint suddenly picked the margarita out of her hands.

"Hey!" Natasha protested indignantly, hand flailing to go after him, but Clint simply stepped back and lifted the glass to his mouth. Natasha blinked, and then he was tipping the glass back, chugging the drink in one go.

When he finished, he let out a satisfied, "Ahhh!" and patted his belly in a self-congratulatory motion.

"You're going to get brain-freeze, dumbass." Natasha pointed out, smirking.

Clint raised an eyebrow at her and said in a sultry voice, "Nonsense, darling." He then made a show of licking the salt off of the rim of the drink, swirling and curving his tongue in a suggestive manner. He was about halfway through when he suddenly cringed and pressed his free hand against his head. He began groaning and panting, sucking in air quickly, and Natasha simply chuckled wickedly as she stood up.

She picked the drink out of Clint's flailing hands, and said, "Told you so." Clint gave a harsh huff of breath that could have passed as laugh as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

"Fine,- you win!" Clint gasped out. It only took another couple moments before it finally passed, and he was fine again. By the time he could see clearly again, he was struck speechless as Natasha slowly and sensuously worked her dress over her body, lifting it up first on one side before swaying her hips and tugging it off the rest of the way, showing off her brilliant green bikini that worked well for her, despite her scars.

Natasha smirked again when she saw Clint staring at her. He seemed to take an involuntary step forward and then he moved as if he meant to hug her. He stopped himself short though, with a wince when he realized he was still dripping wet. Natasha was impressed with his restraint, and she mentally thought 'fuck it' and closed the distance herself. Clint automatically wrapped his arms around her when she moved into his space, and she shivered at how his cold skin felt against her.

"After all this time, you still doubt me?" Natasha asked pointedly. Clint seemed to have to take a minute to reboot his brain before he figured out she was continuing their conversation.

When he did, he smiled down at her and said, "Nope! But I gotta test you, you know. Keep you on your toes." Clint joked and then he bent down to kiss her deeply. Natasha could taste the sea salt combined with the margarita mix and she loved tasting them both on Clint's lips.

When they parted, Natasha smiled again, "Well, you have to work at keeping me on my toes, then. Show me what you got!" Natasha pulled back from his grip and started running towards the water. She got a head start, but Clint was always faster than her at running and before she could touch the surf, strong arms wrapped around her body from behind and lifted her into the air, making her squeal in delight and happiness. She could hear Clint laughing behind her, and she giggled and screamed playfully when he started twirling her around, moving deeper into the water and splashing her with the incoming tide.

Without warning, Clint dropped the both of them into the shallow water, and Natasha gasped at the sudden coldness. Clint was laughing, and the sound was infectious, making Natasha laugh with him.

Natasha managed to twist in his embrace, and then locked her arms around his neck while wrapping her legs around his waist. Clint's arms held onto her closely, hands splayed out from her ass to her shoulder, and as they laughed and floated in the water, Natasha felt like she was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


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